Where I Belong
by TheyTotallyAre
Summary: Her unborn child stirs, a painful reminder that she, herself, is still very much alive. This is a fate worse than death, she thinks. How is she supposed to continue living without the woman she loves, her baby's mother, her everything? "You came back." WARNING: Major character death. This is a bit of a ghost story. But, it is also, very much, a love story.
1. Chapter 1

**I've been feeling a little burnt out and that led me to the decision that it's time to get new ideas flowing. I've been sitting on this one for a while now, so I thought that I would record it and turn it into a fic. If you are familiar with my writing you've probably already guessed that this one is going to be heart wrenching. But, I promise to deliver a beautiful love story.**

Regina's voice can be heard, coming from the direction of the walk-in closet. "Why does your mother always insist on throwing these stupid parties?"

As Emma slides a well-tailored white blouse over toned arms and meticulously begins securing its tiny buttons, starting at the top, just below the collar, she responds, "I don't know, maybe because she has the most beautiful daughter-in-law in the world."

Regina pokes her head out for a moment, to make certain that Emma sees her stern expression. "Emma, I'm serious."

Obviously her wife is in no mood for jokes this evening. Even though they have a particularly playful relationship most of the time, Regina's hormones have been getting the best of her, as of late. Emma decides to take a different approach, staying focused on an easy target. "You know how much this means to Mom. She wanted to do something special for us." "It gives her life," Emma adds, as she dons a sleek black blazer. She opted to wear one of Regina's pant-suits tonight instead of the skin-tight cocktail dress she had been saving for a special occasion. An evening out with her wife would be reason enough. But, under the circumstances, Emma thought it would be best to dress modestly. Regina has been feeling especially insecure about her body during the last few weeks.

The regal woman's expression is somber as she steps out of the walk-in closet in a floor-length, black, v-neck, sleeveless, empire waist, jersey dress. "Nothing fits me anymore, not even my shoes because my feet are swollen."

The blonde woman is still surprised by how often her incredible wife can take her breath away.

Regina voices an unsettling observation. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Emma hesitates before speaking, unable to compose a response worthy of this vision before her. Her voice cracks, "Is that what you're wearing?"

The older woman's heart sinks. "You hate it," she assumes and returns to the closet to search for a better option for that evening.

"Wait, no! That's not what I meant." The blonde woman gently grasps Regina's hand to stop her. "Baby, please," she soothes. "Are you kidding me?" She holds Regina's hand next to her beating heart and with her free hand she lightly brushes brown hairs out of Regina's eyes, which are now brimming with tears. "You got this especially for tonight?"

Regina doesn't understand why she is so moved by this humble gesture. Until that moment, with her lover gazing into her eyes and the feel of this woman's heartbeat beneath her palm, she is suddenly and painfully aware of the fragility of life. "I bought it for you." She sniffs.

"For me?" Emma Swan is still not used to being so important to another person. All she ever wanted to be, her whole life, was enough. Now, not only is she enough, she is everything to Regina.

The queen attempts to mask her fear with irritation. "Yes, you," she scolds. "How many other wives do you think I have?"

Emma captures her queen in a strong embrace, silently communicating her endless devotion.

Instantly melting in her lovers arms, Regina realizes that she had been entirely unaware of how tense she was. Over the past several hours, her anxiety had grown, becoming increasingly burdensome.

Emma admits her innocent blunder. "I'm sorry I made you think that I didn't like it."

The queen only hugs her wife tighter in response.

The young sheriff continues, "I don't deserve you or your beautiful dress."

At that, Regina stands at attention. Grasping Emma's face with both hands, she expresses her gratitude for the most supportive spouse she could ever hope for.

Though the younger woman thoroughly enjoyed the kiss, if the pool in her underwear is any indication, she knows Regina well enough to discern that something is still bothering her. She holds her queen in a comforting embrace and continues to shower her with compliments, "I have never seen you look more beautiful than you do right now."

"You're a terrible liar," Regina detects, giggling at the ridiculousness of her wife's comment. "But, I love you for trying." The adoration in her eyes is unmistakable.

"Hey, I meant what I said," Emma reiterates. But when she notices her wife's shy behavior, she inquires, "Are you feeling alright?"

Regina recognizes that there is no use hiding her feelings from her very perceptive wife. "I don't think we should go to the party," she admits.

The older woman's sudden reluctance is reason for concern. "What's wrong?"

The queen openly explains, "I'm not feeling very well."

Emma's worry is amplified. She never wants the love of her life to feel discomfort of any sort, if she can help it. "Are you sick?"

"No." Regina tries to articulate the nagging feeling. "I just…" She struggles to find the correct words. "Something's not right."

The blonde woman's eyes widen in horror. "Is it the baby?" The alarm is evident in her voice, as she places protective hands over her beloved wife's belly.

"The baby's fine," Regina assures. She knows how worried Emma gets when it comes to their unborn child. The queen lightly rests her own hands over the blonde woman's in order to calm her. "Emma, she's fine."

The younger woman breathes a sigh of relief.

Just thinking about her little girl fills Emma with peace and happiness. She kneels in front of Regina so that her face is even with her wife's belly. Her expression changes to one of contentment when she feels her child stir beneath her fingers. "Hi peanut. I love you. Mommy loves you, baby." She places a feathery kiss over the spot where she had just felt her baby move.

The queen noticeably brightens as a grateful smile spreads across her face. The tenderness displayed by the woman she loves fills the brunette woman with more joy than the former Evil Queen ever imagined possible. "Emma," she whispers.

The younger woman rises to a standing position. "I love you too, baby," she replies, sealing her conviction with a chaste kiss upon waiting lips.

Automatically, the couple joins hands as if this was a finely choreographed dance they had performed many times. The regal woman attempts to distract herself from any remnants of dread. "You know we really need to start thinking of possible names for her," she informs.

"But, I like peanut," the younger woman teases. "And baby girl already knows it's her name." Emma is well aware that the casualness of the name drives her very proper wife crazy.

Honestly the teasing is a welcomed distraction. "I am not letting you name our daughter after a legume," Regina warns. Though her intention was to sound stern in her conviction, her delivery was rather lighthearted.

Recognizing that her wife is just a big softy, Emma knows that she can get away with what she says next. "Okay, fine. But that's still going to be her nickname."

Sometimes Regina has a hard time letting go. She inhales deeply. "I want to wait until we meet her before we decide anything."

And sometimes Emma doesn't know when to quit. "Do I at least get to be part of picking out her name?" She was only joking, but lately Regina has been taking everything as a personal slight. The blonde woman instantly regrets that last comment when she notices tears welling in Regina's eyes.

"Of course you do. She's your child," Regina sorrowfully explains, trying to correct what she believes to be a horrible mistake. "I just thought that we should meet her first," is all that she can manage before breaking down.

"Hey. Hey. It's okay. I was only joking." The blonde woman secures her arms around Regina's trembling form and begins rocking her gently in an effort to calm her. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry." She should have known better than to play with her hormonal wife's emotions in such a manner. When she feels Regina calming, she continues. "I think that waiting until we meet her is a great idea."

Regina brightens at Emma's sincerity and straightens up to meet her favorite blue eyes.

"Anything you wish, my queen," the younger woman confirms.

Regina spontaneously blushes and catches her bottom lip between her teeth. Only Emma has ever or could ever make her feel so special.

"Do you feel better?"

"No," the queen regretfully admits. "I still don't think that we should leave this house." Regina turns to walk over to the bed that they share, still holding on to Emma's hand to guide her. She settles her weight on the mattress, relieved to be off her feet.

Sensing that Regina's swollen feet are probably bothering her, Emma lifts her wife's legs onto the bed, in order to elevate them. Regina automatically rests her back against the mountain of pillows arranged in front of the headboard, so that she is comfortably propped.

"That feels better," she confirms.

"You just needed to get off them for a while," Emma detects, beginning to massage her wife's feet, now cradled in her lap.

After a minute of comfortable silence, Regina takes a chance. "Would you be upset if we didn't go tonight?"

The younger woman hesitates before responding. She knows that it wouldn't be right for her to argue with the woman who is carrying her child, though the disappointment is evident in her expression. "What's important to me is your comfort."

Regina's expression softens. She is thoroughly moved by Emma's selflessness.

Choosing not to linger in self-pity and meeting her lover's eyes, the younger woman continues confidently, "It doesn't matter what I want."

"Yes it does." The queen is suddenly animated. "Emma," Regina encourages. "Do you want to go to the party?"

"I know its lame," Emma recognizes, "but I was actually looking forward to it."

Regina smiles warmly. How could she deny the woman she loves such an innocent request. "Then we'll go," she happily grants.

"Regina, it's okay," Emma assures. "We don't—"

"Yes, we do," the regal woman articulates. "This is a relationship Emma, not a dictatorship." When she notices Emma avoiding her eyes in embarrassment, the queen encourages, "Honey." She reaches out, silently requesting the younger woman's hand. "Marriage means compromise and I realize that I was being unreasonable before."

Emma lightly squeezes Regina's hand in grateful response. "Do you know how amazing you are?"

Amplifying the lure, Regina tempts, "Would you care to remind me?"

Emma licks her lips in anticipation and casually removes the stifling fitted jacket. She slowly crawls, similarly to a tiger, toward the headboard until she meets Regina's waiting lips. "You are," she kisses her, "the most," she kisses her again, "incredible," again, "sexiest," again "woman," the kiss is longer this time, "I have ever met." Regina reciprocates the gesture with a deepening kiss of her own and wraps her arms around Emma's neck to hold her in place. "And, you're even sexier now," Emma adds, raking her eyes over Regina's reclined form.

"Hemorrhoids don't exactly make me feel sexy," Regina coyly admits.

Holding her lover's gaze, Emma proclaims, "You're carrying my baby. There is nothing sexier than that."

Regina kisses her wife again, relishing the love passing between them. When they break for air, Regina holds the younger woman's face in her hands, tantalizingly petting her with her fingers. "Happy anniversary," the queen whispers.

"Happy anniversary," Emma replies. She begins kissing her woman again, this time trailing her kisses along Regina's neck. "I hope you won't be too tired to celebrate with me, later tonight."

The feel of her lover's hot breath against her skin makes the queen tingle. "As a matter of fact," she begins, but has to gulp before continuing. "I have something very special planned."

Regina feels the younger woman's mouth move to her collarbone. "Is Henry still sleeping at my parents'?"

"I spoke with your mother this afternoon," Regina breathlessly replies, desperate for more contact. Thankfully, the queen feels Emma slide the strap of her dress, bra-strap included, off her shoulder and the kisses grow more eager as the younger woman focuses on the area above her left breast.

"So, what do you have planned?"

"You couldn't handle it if I told you," the queen flirts.

Emma straightens up to meet warm brown orbs. "You have no idea what you do to me."

The queen is completely enamored with her flushed wife. She assures, "I know exactly what I'm going to do to you tonight."

"This feels like our honeymoon again," Emma notes.

"Then my plan worked splendidly," Regina comments.

Emma proceeds to kiss her wife with a renewed passion, to which Regina eagerly responds.

"I seriously need you to be naked right now," Emma divulges.

Regina breathlessly asks, "You still find me desirable?"

The stimulated woman only hums against Regina's soft lips.

"This dress comes off," the queen informs, eagerly granting Emma access to her waiting body.

Emma grins in anticipation and effortlessly removes the seductive garment. "Holy Shit," she exclaims, turned on beyond comprehension by the fact that her wife opted not to wear underpants.

"Shhhhh! Henry's still home," Regina playfully scolds. Though she tries to sound stern, there is no disguising her silly smile.

"Henry's downstairs, he won't hear us," Emma informs. "Besides, you can't go commando and expect me to not have a heart attack."

Normally a joke such as this would not be reason for concern. However, it turns out to be that absolute worst joke Emma Swan could possibly have made that evening.

Regina suddenly becomes rigid, entirely paralyzed by fear and proceeds to cry softly. "No," she begs an invisible force.

"What?" The younger woman is entirely confused by her wife's protest.

But Regina is too far gone. She is completely consumed by the image of her wife's lifeless body lying face up on the ground. She can clearly see that the younger woman's eyes are fixed in place, straight ahead, as if she had been stunned, her skin is as pale as her top and she is void of breath. Regina loses all composure and begins to weep.

Nothing scares Emma more than hearing the strongest woman she has ever met cry. "Regina?" She tries again to get the older woman's attention. "Regina, what happened?"

The distraught woman articulates through her sobbing, "You're not having a heart attack."

When Emma feels the older woman grip her shoulders and begin crying harder, she panics. "Hey. Hey, it's okay. Everything's alright." She begins to evenly rock the upset woman in an effort to soothe her. "I was only kidding." As soon as she says it, the younger woman realizes that it won't be that easy to make this situation right. She wraps the crying woman in a strong, yet, tender embrace. "I just meant," she begins, though she is entirely at a loss for right words. "Regina, I," she stops again. What is she going to say? She has to make things right between them. "I didn't think before I spoke." "I'm sorry you married an idiot." That comment was not meant to be directed toward Regina. However, the younger woman is entirely grateful that it came out that way.

The queen cannot stop the tiny laugh that escapes her quivering lips. She is still too shaken to make light of a terrifying premonition. "Emma." She can only manage a whisper.

"I'm sorry," the younger woman laments and places a tender kiss on her traumatized wife's forehead.

Regina is still not ready to lose contact with the woman she loves, but the last thing she wants is to unnecessarily alarm Emma. She straightens up in the younger woman's arms in order to meet her eyes. "There's no need to apologize," she confidently assures. How can she tell this woman the truth? How can she tell her what she saw? She doesn't even know if it's real after all. The surroundings were unclear, but she will never forget that look on her beloved's face. She knows that what she saw didn't really happen; this woman is sitting in front of her. She registers Emma's warm skin beneath her fingertips. She is not the cold corpse from her premonition. Still, the queen feels as though she came so close to losing her. "You are the sweetest, most caring, kindest spouse I could ask for."

Emma wraps her arms more securely around the shaken woman. "I love you, Regina."

"I love you too," she whispers in return, kissing Emma's bicep in appreciation.

When the older woman finally composes, Emma admits. "I hate that I mad you cry."

Regina cradles Emma's face in her hand, deeply saddened by this woman's sullen expression. "You are so good Emma. You're my best-friend, my protector, my confidante, and my wife. You have been nothing but wonderful to me." She feels Emma's hand lightly grasp her wrist. "I can't bear the thought of losing you."

"You are not going to lose me," the younger woman assures. "I promise. I'm not going anywhere." She kisses her queen again.

"Can we just stay home?" Regina innocently requests.


	2. Chapter 2

**I believe this chapter is where the story earns its M rating. SQ sexy times ahead!**

A ringing cell phone on the night stand threatens the happy couple's current state of bliss.

"Reject it," Regina pants. She is too enthralled by Emma's talented mouth between her legs to be concerned with the caller. Her pregnancy has definitely had its advantages, especially in the bedroom, making the queen ultra-sensitive to her wife's touch.

If Emma is being honest with herself, she has no intention of relenting. She knows how close Regina is. To refuse this woman pleasure now would be cruel. With a swift flick of her wrist, she declines the call.

A few seconds later, through stifled moans, another cell phone begins to ring.

"Are you kidding me?" the exasperated queen complains.

Emma quickly rejects this call, before snaking her non-dominant hand around Regina's swollen belly and confidently seizing a bare breast. "Don't lose it. Baby, don't lose it," Emma whispers against Regina's throbbing bundle of nerves.

Regina places her own hand over her lover's in silent encouragement.

Next, the house phone rings. "I'm going to murder her," the frustrated woman exclaims. She is suddenly filled with rage.

"That's it, baby," Emma urges. "Hang on to that."

"What?" The older woman is thoroughly confused by Emma's comment, until the younger woman asks the question,

"What will you do if my mother denies you release?"

Not needing Emma to elaborate further, blue sparks shoot out of Regina's fingertips, hitting the ringing object and sending it crashing to the floor.

"I really don't want to think about your mother right now," she growls.

Recognizing that her queen is entirely at her mercy, Emma asks the magic question, "What would you do to me?"

That question, in combination with Emma's skillful advances, unexpectedly, sends Regina tumbling over the edge. Before they became family, The Evil Queen dreamed of having her way with Emma in front of Snow White, or at least rubbing it in the infuriatingly simple woman's face.

Emma feels her queen's muscles contract and proceeds to ease her down, helping her ride out her orgasm as long as possible.

Regina is unable to recall the last time she felt such extreme gratification. She thinks back. Perhaps it was the night she and Emma finally conceived. She's lucky she's already pregnant, the older woman realizes, Emma is in top form tonight.

As both women struggle to recover they hear their son calling from downstairs. "Moms, it's Grandma."

"Don't answer it," the queen whispers. Her eyes are still closed and she lies perfectly still, except for her chest which rises and falls in steady rhythm.

Emma considers dismissing the call for a moment. She honestly could use a nap right about now. But when her son calls up the stairs again she reluctantly rises from her prostrated position. "Shit."

"Damn, you were pissed," Emma comments when she regards the broken fragments of what was once a rotary phone, scattered across the room.

"That'll teach your mother not to interrupt me," Regina informs. Evidently her post-coital glow has left her on a natural high.

It is comments such as these that increase Regina's charm, Emma muses. It's no wonder that she fell in love with her.

"I don't think she's in the phone, babe," the younger woman blithely informs as she effortlessly reconstructs the annoying object.

Unsure as to whether his parents heard him or not, Henry calls upstairs again.

"Let me talk to her," Regina requests, lifting a single arm, nowhere near the direction of the phone. "I need to thank her."

Oh yeah, her wife is definitely high, Emma realizes. There is no way she is letting Regina anywhere near a phone tonight. "I think you should relax," she suggests, striding back over to the bed with the newly constructed item in hand. She picks up the receiver and settles her weight beside her subdued wife. "Thanks kid, I got it," she announces.

"Hi, Mom." She tries to sound calm. "I'm fine." "I just ran from the other room," she lies.

Regina smiles with glee when she pictures her out of breath wife, running out of the guestroom and into the master bedroom. She opens her eyes and gazes upon the flushed, glistening body of the woman she adores. "You were working hard, weren't you?" she comments, running her hand along the length of a deliciously muscular arm.

Trying to ignore the sultry women's effect on her, the younger woman explains, "Yeah, sorry. We lost track of the time."

Regina tries to speak loud enough, so that her former adversary might hear her. "Your daughter was busy fucking me."

Emma covers the receiver with her hand and attempts to discourage her queen, though she is fully aware that Regina will not take her seriously when she is sporting such a goofy grin. She addresses her mother again, "What? Nothing. I was just talking to Regina."

Regina attempts to rise to a seated position, though the number of pillows propped under her makes this a bit of a challenge. Once she has regained an upright position, the queen snakes a single arm around the younger woman's abdomen until her hand finds purchase over an adorable breast, which she proceeds to caress while nibbling on her lover's earlobe. "I'd like to talk to you some more," she whispers against the claimed ear.

It is becoming increasingly harder for the blonde woman to ignore her growing arousal. "She's fine."

Regina continues her advances, eager to tantalize the younger woman. "I am thoroughly sated," she informs. But when she trails her fingers down to tease the younger woman, Emma jolts up and stands facing her, with a look a of disapproval.

"You're no fun," Regina complains. She is obviously still high.

"Tink's there?" Emma broadcasts.

"Oh, good. The helpful fairy showed up," the wounded queen remarks, collapsing back on the mountain of pillows.

"They didn't tell us they were in town."

Despite her irritation, Regina is intrigued by her lover's growing excitement. Emma turns her attention toward Regina, catching the older woman off guard.

"Are we still coming?"

The queen is suddenly brought back to reality.

"Um," Emma delays.

Regina understands that she is required to answer the loathsome question and regretfully nods her consent.

"Yeah," Emma cheers. "Yes. We'll be there soon. Okay, bye." She hangs up the receiver and joins her lover on the bed. "Regina." She helps her wife to a seated position, once again, propping several pillows behind her for Regina to relax against.

"I know you want to see your friends," the older woman calmly explains.

"They're our friends," Emma clarifies. "And they want to see you too."

"I'm not so sure." The disinclined queen reasons, "Until recently they were still living under my curse."

Emma lightly grasps her wife's arms in a show of support. "But you're not going to curse them anymore, right?"

"We shall see," Regina teases.

"Come on, it will be fun," Emma encourages. But once she recognizes that her efforts to share her enthusiasm are of no avail, she tries a different approach. "I promise," she begins. "When we come home, we'll disconnect the house phones, turn our cell phones off and I'll give you my complete and undivided attention."

"That does sound enticing," Regina confesses, though she still cannot meet her beloved's eyes.

"I'll be all yours," the blonde woman whispers, as though she is divulging a secret.

The roused queen clears her throat before speaking. "I bought a special outfit, if you can even call it that, for this evening."

"Okay, I'm going to need you to tone the sexy down about fifteen notches or I'm not going to be able to formulate sentences tonight."

"You never were very articulate to begin with, dear." Of course the queen is not being malicious. She knows Emma well enough to recognize that she would never take the insult to heart.

The younger woman fakes offense. "Oh, I see how it is." As a mischievous smile spreads across her face, Regina welcomes the coy smile spreading across her own.

"Emma. Emma, I was only teasing," she assures, when the younger woman proceeds to tickle her mercilessly. "Stop it," she protests, through hysterical laughter. She attempts to plead her case. "It's not fair to tickle a pregnant woman." "

"Oh, no. You're not getting off that easy, Mrs. Swan."

But Regina surprises her by mentioning an undeniable truth. "The baby's pressing on my bladder."

Emma immediately relents, not desiring for her partner to have an accident. "Sorry."

Regina takes a moment to compose, still giggling about the recent tickle fight. She corrects her previous statement. "You are plenty articulate."

Emma only beams at her wife, completely transfixed by this woman's smile.

"Do you forgive me?" Regina asks.

The younger woman kisses her queen. "Why do you have to be so cute?" She rakes her eyes over Regina's reclined form. "And naked?"

"I want you to find me irresistible," the older woman flirts.

"I am so in love with you."

"I love you too."

The conversation takes a serious turn. "If we weren't already married, I'd ask you to marry me right now."

The queen doesn't know why this feels like the first time. But, she is suddenly brought back to that day, over a year ago. "And I would say 'yes' again. My answer will always be 'yes.'"

The younger woman silently begins to weep.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"It feels the same."

"What does?"

"It feels like you're saying it to me for the first time."

Regina cradles the younger woman's face in her hands. Gazing into beautiful blue eyes, she expresses her devotion. "Yes, Emma. I will be your wife." She kisses her again. "I am your wife."

The two women rest contentedly in each other's embrace, until they hear their son calling from downstairs.

"Moms, Grandma wants to know what time we'll be there."

"Your mother is unbelievable," Regina observes.

"She must've texted Henry." Emma is fully aware that Snow White will go to any lengths to contact her, even if that means calling her son. "Tell her I'll call her back, kid." She turns her attention toward her wife. "We should probably get cleaned up, so we can get out of here."

The queen is suddenly brought back to reality. She still cannot shake the feeling of extreme uneasiness every time Emma mentions leaving the house. "The last thing I want is to be wearing clothes right now." she suggests, trying to sound playful.

"Believe me, that is the last thing I want too. But I'll be there to remind you, all night, how stunning you look in your dress." When she notices her wife's defeated expression, she suggests, "If you're miserable we'll come right back. Okay?"

The queen nods in reluctant agreement.

7777777

Both women have nearly, once again, concluded their prepping rituals. Regina is just completing the finishing touches to her make-up which ended up needing to be completely redone after their little escapade.

Emma's phone chimes again. "I think Mom's getting antsy."

"Did you get another text?" Regina asks, carefully replacing her discarded earrings, one at a time.

"Yeah," Emma confirms. "Ruby just arrived."

The provoked queen whips around to face her unsuspecting wife. "So that's why you're so eager to go tonight."

Oh, that look. How could she have been so careless as to earn such a glare from her infamous wife? Emma tries to act casual. "Don't tell me you're still jealous."

"I'm not jealous," the queen quickly denies, though her tone is laced with venom. "Why would I be jealous?"

Emma knows that it's a trap. Regina's hormones are only amplifying all of this woman's insecurities. She has to think fast if she has any hope of re-instilling confidence in her wife. "Regina, that was a long time ago, before you and I were even dating. Ruby's in a committed relationship now and so am I, in case you haven't noticed." If she wants to sound convincing, she had better try harder. "When I was crushing on Ruby it was just about physical attraction. I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Though the queen attempts to mask her fear behind contempt, Emma sees beyond the façade to the fragile woman who stole her heart.

"Regina." The concern in her voice is unmistakable.

When the older woman feels Emma lightly grasp her hand to guide her across the room, she questions. "What are you doing?"

Emma gently holds Regina in front of the full-length mirror. "Look at this beautiful woman."

Avoiding the reflection in front of her, Regina tries to argue, "Emma, I don't—"

But the blonde woman wraps her arms more securely around her wife's thin frame. "Look at her," she gushes. "She's my wife and the mother of my children." Regina feels her baby stir, an affirmation of Emma's love. "She is the most amazing human being I have ever known and I still can't believe that she chose me."

Regina turns in her lover's arms, promptly burying her face in her wife's neck.

Emma proceeds to rub calming circles on her wife's back, entirely grateful for the amazing woman in her arms. "I was so afraid to ask you out," she recalls. "I actually wanted to ask you out the night we met."

Regina remembers that night fondly, when the unruly woman in the trademark red leather jacket showed up on her doorstep. She looks up with tear filled eyes to meet her wife's adoring gaze.

Emma continues, "But I quickly learned that you were bat-shit crazy."

Regina cannot stop the explosion of laughter that escapes her.

"Despite that fact," Emma confesses, "I fell in love with you." She continues to divulge, "I was in love with you long before we ever started dating." "Talk about agony," she remembers. "I never let myself dream that one day you would actually choose me."

Regina holds her wife's face in both hands to drive the point home. "I chose you then and I choose you now, Emma. I do." She seals her conviction with a fervent kiss.

"I got you something," the younger woman reveals.

"Emma," Regina halfheartedly scolds. "You didn't have to do that." She casually attempts to wipe the remaining tears from her eyes.

"Trust me, it's nothing compared to the gift you've given me," she explains, with regard to her wife's growing belly. "Anyway, I hope you like it," she says, offering her beloved a small, unmarked, velvet covered jewelry box.

"Emma…" The queen is rendered speechless when she opens the sleek black box to discover a brilliant diamond speckled, silver colored pendant attached to a matching box chain. "A swan," the older woman whispers.

"It's white-gold, so it shouldn't tarnish as easily," Emma informs, "and those are real diamonds."

"Emma, I…"

But when the queen hesitates, the nervous young woman is the first to speak. "I know it's cheesy," she assumes. "I just think it's cool that swans mate for life, you know?"

Regina has to avert her eyes for fear of breaking down.

The younger woman's confidence diminishes. "I thought you might like it." In her mind she has utterly failed her queen.

Regina captures her devoted wife's face in her hands and kisses her deeply, silently communing what words fail to express. When they break for air, she states the simple truth, "I love it. I love it so much."

The queen uses the fact that they are still standing in front of the mirror to her advantage as she tries with shaking hands to free the gorgeous necklace from its box.

Emma giggles at the awkwardness of her normally graceful wife. "Let me help you." She places the necklace around Regina's neck, securing the clasp in the back.

"I wish it could be more," she explains. "There just isn't anything special enough in existence."

"I'll never take it off," the grateful queen informs, clutching the brilliant pendant beneath her fingers.

"They assured me that the chain is strong." Emma adds, "You know, in case of little hands."

Both women are fully aware that babies have the tendency to seize their mother's, newly discovered, jewelry in a death-grip. This fact is what led Emma to the responsible decision when choosing a chain.

The queen turns to face the woman who makes her feel more valued than she ever thought possible. "I love it." She includes, "And I love you."

"I love you too." The blonde woman places a chaste kiss on her queen's lips. "Let's go celebrate."

Regina smiles in contentment. "I've suddenly forgotten what I was so anxious about."

Emma has never been more relieved to hear that her wife has finally relaxed. "Yeah?"

"All I know is that wherever you are, that's where I belong," she confirms.

"Are you ready, my queen?" Emma asks, offering Regina her arm.

Regina hooks her arm around Emma's. "I suppose, the sooner we leave, the sooner we can come home."

"I like the way you think."

7777777

At some point during the short drive to Granny's Emma noticed Regina's breathing becoming increasingly shallower. Not wanting to alarm their son, Emma encourages Henry to go into the restaurant without them. "You go ahead, kid. We'll be right there." As soon as Henry is out of earshot, Emma beseeches her wife. "Regina?"

"Emma, the feeling is worse."

The younger woman's mind goes to the scariest place imaginable. "Are you sure it's not the baby? Are you having contractions?"

"It's too early for that," Regina points out. The last thing she wants is to worry her wife, but that doesn't stop her from telling Emma the truth. "I think it's my heart."

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"I can't breathe." She knows that this is an exaggeration. But in the moment, it feels as though she cannot get enough oxygen. "Emma, I'm scared."

"Oh, shit." The younger woman makes a startling realization. "I know what this is."

"What is it?"

Emma springs into action. "Let's get you outside." She exits the driver's side and comes around to the passenger door.

A soon as she feels the chilly Maine air fill her lungs, the queen begins to relax.

"Okay. You're okay," Emma soothes, guiding Regina out of the car. "I've got you." The blonde woman assures. She swiftly unbuttons Regina's coat and places her hand over her frightened lover's racing heart. "Everything's okay Regina. It's just a panic attack."

"A what?" the queen exclaims.

"It's okay," Emma reiterates. "I had them all the time when I was pregnant with Henry." "Just breathe," she instructs. "I'm right here."

The grateful queen begins to weep. "I'm so scared."

"I know. I know, baby. But, you're alright. You just need to focus on your breathing until it passes." She only hopes that her words are comforting. "I've got you." "Take deep breaths," she coaches. "It's okay. You're okay." "Deep breath," she repeats. "Let it out slowly." She continues her instruction. "You're okay. You're alright," she reminds. When she feels Regina's heartbeat finally regulate, the younger woman relaxes. "Shit, that was scary."

Regina is entirely worn. "But, you were here with me," she gratefully replies.

"I will always be here," the younger woman promises. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Can we just go home?" Regina entreats.

"Yes. Yes, of course," Emma promptly grants. "Let's say Goodnight to Henry. I'll tell my parents that you're not feeling well and we'll go home."

Regina smiles warmly, grateful for the chance to be alone with the love of her life. "Thank you."

"You know I'd do anything for you," Emma authenticates.

"I do."


	3. Chapter 3

**I am incredibly touched by your follows, favorites, messages and overall support. Thank you for reaching out and expressing a desire to read more of this** **story.**

 **The subject of grief is the most painful experience I have ever written, as it hit close to home shortly after publishing the first two chapters. It was entirely unexpected. But, writing has allowed me to work through my own grief. It's a process. I am recommitting myself to this story and I am sorry for my absence. For any of you struggling with the loss of a loved one, my heart goes out to you. You are loved and you are not alone.**

 **WARNING: Sudden/Traumatic Loss, Grieving Widow**

Regina Mills had no memory of returning home that evening. Yet, somehow, she ended up in bed. Before opening her eyes she pictures her surroundings, visualizing the height of the ceiling, the location of the window and the chair next to the vanity with her wife's favorite sweater casually draped over its back. Emma typically preferred a sweater and fleece pajama pants rather than a robe for lounging around the house on a chilly evening, one of many things Regina found endearing about her. Actually everything about Emma was endearing. In the length of time that Regina has known her wife, Emma has always embraced her own uniqueness. She is never pretentious, only following trends because of social expectation or acceptability. She possesses an inner strength that many strive, their whole lives, to achieve, though never fully obtain. Regina's mind lingers. She loves the wearer of that sweater. Sometimes she steals the cozy garment under the pretense of flirting, just to feel closer to her love. Though Emma may have understood the sentimental value of the garment, she never gave any indication that she knew.

For a brief blissful moment, the queen relishes the euphoria that the cotton sheets promote before her other senses awake. If she had any premonition of the chain reaction that would follow, she would have fought with all of her strength to reclaim the ignorance sleep provided.

The first incongruity Regina notices is the empty space surrounding her. This is particularly disturbing because it can only mean one thing. The woman who had shared her bed every night for the last year is not beside her.

She expected to be in a darkened room upon opening her eyes, which is probably why the blinding light covering every corner of the room is an even greater shock to her system. This isn't her home. Is this a nightmare? This has to be a nightmare, she reasons. This must be a nightmare.

"Regina, do you know where you are?"

Why would this stranger use a name reserved for those closest to her? She has to wake up. She must wake up. Her vision still blurry from the depth of slumber, she struggles to identify the unwelcome figures towering over her. What if this isn't a dream. Something horrible must have happened. Is it another curse? Her instincts triggered, she decides to take action first and ask questions later. A pulsing fireball should do the trick.

Nothing happened.

Her magic must be tethered by some means. That can be the only logical explanation, she concludes. But who would do such a thing? Certainly the one who loves her most would never allow another person or entity to gain control over her—never. Emma. Something has happened to Emma, the queen projects. She must be in trouble. With renewed determination Regina attempts, once again, to call forth her magic. It fails a second time. She considers a troubling possibility. Had her magic been taken entirely? Something is definitely wrong. And if she's in danger, Emma must be in danger too. She has to get to her and fast.

When she tries to right herself, the queen becomes frighteningly aware of the fact that her arms are paralyzed. Had she suffered some injury or are her limbs being restrained by some outside force? She doesn't know. She had only once found herself in a situation such as this, but even then she hadn't experienced such an intense feeling of helplessness. Her heart responds to the heightened distress as she recalls the past event that made her familiar with the sensation of being strapped to a table. On that particular day, she was nearly tortured to death by a madman. At the time she had no choice but to accept her fate, desiring only to remain obstinate until merciful death finally claimed her. She would not plead with her tormentor, nor would she give him the satisfaction of seeing any trace fear in her eyes. This time is different. She has everything to live for, everything to lose. Her own life would be of little concern if it wasn't for the life she carries and the safety of the woman who holds her heart. She must save them. But, what if she can't?

The normally stoic woman senses her body's betrayal when the first tears sting the corners of her eyes. Such a vulnerable response could have something to do with the hormones, but, she understands, it has everything to do with the emptiness in her heart, growing by the second the longer she is apart from her soul-mate. Emma has always been the source of her strength, the person she turned to in times of need. She knew that Emma would be there, by her side if something wasn't preventing her. Where was she? What had happened to her?

"Emma," the weakened woman whimpers. Despite her surmounting fear and the figures crowding her, threatening to consume the remaining oxygen inside her lungs, the name is uttered as a gentle request. Maybe one of the alien figures would show her some compassion and let her see her love again.

"It's all right, Regina. Everything's going to be all right."

This voice she knows. It is a woman's voice, someone close to her, but it isn't the one she wants to hear, which causes even greater anguish.

She calls again, louder this time. Maybe her wife would hear. "Emma!"

Desperation consuming her at the lack of response, she loses all sense of reality and feels herself caving in. Anything anchoring her to this world evaporates in an instant. Though she cannot see the claw buried in her chest, she feels her heart being tugged against her rib-cage as though some unseen force, with no magical ability, was trying to tear the muscle from her body.

For a few brief moments, upon awakening, she had been comfortable under the neatly tucked sheets. Now the blankets only served to fan the flames ravaging her skin. Though she can see no origin of the fire, the smoke must have triggered some alarm. The high-pitched beep is right next to her head. Only later would she learn that it was the sound of a monitor, displaying her dangerously accelerated heart rate.

"Don't hurt her," the familiar voice cries.

"She's going to hurt herself and the baby if she doesn't calm down," a stern male voice reprimands.

Regina cannot see, she cannot move, she can only hear the muffled, faceless voices above her, obscured by a flood of tears, made worse by the unnaturally bright light. As she feels herself begin to drown—suffocated by her own sorrow—her heart pounds as if trying to break out on its own power. With every last breath left in her aching lungs, she manages to scream the name, her voice rising above her captors.

The exchange that would follow fades into anonymity.

"She's choking."

"Somebody help her!"

"Release the restraints."

"If you do that, she'll kill us all. She's dangerous."

"Please, help her!"

"Get her out of here!"

"If we don't turn her on her side she's going to asphyxiate."

Regina feels an obstruction in her throat. It won't be long now. Soon the object would block any entry of air. As she feels herself descending into darkness, she accepts her fate. If this is the end, she only hopes that her love will be spared.

"Regina. Regina, can you hear me?"

She doesn't know how, but the fire is extinguished and the obstruction removed. She can breathe. Her vision had not been restored, but she is at peace. This must be death. Her only regret is not seeing her girl before it all ended. As she is about to lose consciousness, for what she imagines will be the last time, she lets the most beautiful name she has ever heard pass her lips, it is only a whisper. "Emma." In that instant, she feels the warmth of her wife's love envelop her, as she is gently guided into tranquil slumber. She is here. Emma is with her. Finally, she is in the presence of her love once more and will remain there forever.

* * *

Maybe it had all been a nightmare. It had to have been a nightmare.

Regina doesn't know how long she had been asleep. But there is no doubt, she is definitely awake.

She calmly inventories the situation. The first thing she registers: she is on her side. Having almost reached her third trimester, she had grown accustom to sleeping and waking in this position. Though, something remains amiss. She cannot feel the warmth of another body nestled against her back. Is it possible that she is facing her companion? Her suspicions are confirmed when she feels herself being eased into a conscious state.

Regina had the fortune of possessing many magical talents. However, divination was not among them. Had she any foresight she would have willingly slid into a peaceful coma and waited for her princess to wake her or inevitable death to take her.

Though her eyes remain closed, she notices that she is not paralyzed as before. Her right hand is held in a tender grasp as another hand lovingly pets it, so reverent. She is safe. She is loved. Surely she would discover the one beside her is the one who would always be by her side. Emma must have heard her crying in her sleep and now she is gently guiding her awake as she had done countless times during their marriage. In the safety of her wife's love, Regina had been able to combat many of the ghosts from her past. Emma was always her protector; always there to strengthen her for whatever battle she might face. Her love was with her now. Regina exhales the most melodious name. "Emma." The responding voice is not the one she expected to greet her ears.

"Regina."

As soon as the younger woman comes into focus Regina notices that Mary Margaret looked haggard, a far cry from the always put together Snow White. She seems even more bedraggled than she had when she was a fugitive in the Enchanted Forest. This woman was broken. She must have lost everything: her home, her security, her family and her friends; any trace of hope had vanished. And she is most likely on the brink of starvation, if her appearance is any indication. Regina couldn't remember a time when Mary Margaret was ever so malnourished, even in her youth. Her skin is pale, except for the areas where her face had been streaked by tears. How long had this woman been crying? When was the last time she saw daylight? What had happened? Regina doesn't have to wonder long, before the younger woman finds the courage to speak.

"I thought I lost you."

She feels Mary Margaret's tender grip tighten, as though silently beseeching for some unknown reason.

"Snow." Her voice is horse.

The younger woman tries to sound reassuring. "I'm here. I'm right here."

"Where's Emma?"

When her request as to the whereabouts of her wife is met with silence the fear returns. Like a terrified child, who had wandered away from the protection of her mother, Regina asks again, with marked urgency. "Where is my wife?"

The heart-monitor begins to signal distress as Regina's anxiety grows.

"Regina, it's going to be okay."

Fed up with the simpleton's incompetence, the former Evil Queen evokes the power she had not relied upon since she trusted her heart to this woman's daughter. She is still the queen and her wishes will be obeyed. "Get Emma, you fool!"

"Nurse!"

The scheduled attendant enters the room.

"Your majesty, I need you to lie back down."

"Where is she? Why can't I see her?" As she says this Regina feels the fresh sting of tears; her vision becomes cloudy again.

"Doctor Whale," the frightened nurse calls.

Thankfully, the physician had been making rounds and was easily alerted to his patient's agitation. "How long has she been awake?" When the nurse's answer fails to suffice, he asks more specifically. "Mary Margaret, how long has she been awake?"

"She just woke up. I didn't mean to upset her."

"Waking up to discover that your wife is dead would be upsetting to anyone."

Regina feels her heart stop. "No. Nooooooo!"

Until this moment the bystanders had been under the impression that Regina already knew the fate of her wife. She had witnessed it for herself after all.

"Regina, it's going to be all right." The normally composed physician feels his patient's pulse. "There is too much stress on heart. She's going to need continued sedation." He gives the order, "Start a drip."

"No, please," Mary Margaret cries. "She just woke up."

"If she doesn't calm down, she's going to die. I'm trying to save two lives."

The doctor and nurse attempt to subdue the queen long enough to start an IV as she continues to struggle.

"Please, someone, help me," she begs into the void.

"Stop this. You're hurting her," Mary Margaret pleads, to no avail.

Having heard the commotion an orderly enters the room.

"Hold her down," Whale instructs. He administers an anticonvulsant. "We need to put her back in the restraints.

"Regina, I'm sorry," Mary Margaret cries.

"Emma, please…"

"We're going to take care of you, Regina."

As the light grows dim, Regina finds herself in the presence of her love once again.

"Regina."

That voice. The voice most familiar to her heart, other than her son's, brings her long overdue comfort.

"Emma?"

"It's all right. I'm here."

The phrase is so simple and yet it seems the most powerful words ever spoken. Reassured by her wife's calming voice, Regina basks in the warmth of Emma's love.

"I'm here, Regina," she confirms.

"I needed you." Unable to stifle her own curiosity, she requests an explanation for her wife's absence.

"I'm sorry."

For some unexplained reason, Regina feels the overwhelming weight of those words, as the familiar melancholy begins to grow. "Emma, I was so worried."

"I know," the voice soothes. "I know you're scared. But I'm right here, Regina. I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

Reassured by her wife's promise, Regina admits, "I thought I'd lost you."

"You could never lose me."

Regina understood that Emma spoke the truth. They were going to be together forever. No bond had ever been stronger than the one they shared.

"I love you."

"I love you. Sleep now, Regina."

As Regina feels herself begin to drift, she imagines that she could rest forever safe in the warmth of her wife's love.


	4. Chapter 4

**It will not always be this painful. But, I wanted to record an honest depiction of grief. After this chapter, the worst is over. Thank you again for reading. I look forward to sharing more with you. I hope you will stick around for the good stuff.**

 **The warning from chapter three still applies. Please read before proceeding.**

As her eyes begin to open, whether Regina wanted to admit it or not, she knew. The vision she had seen was only that, not an Emma of substance. Still—it had felt so real, so very real. For a period of time, she doesn't know how long, her brain had protected her. It isn't until this moment that she is able to access the memory, she knows now that it's a memory and not a figment of her imagination, of her last moments with the love of her life.

That night at Granny's Emma's breath had stilled. Regina remembers her wife's eyes, fixed in place. She had expected her wife to blink, but Emma never did; not even one final time. Even as she held her, Regina doesn't remember feeling Emma's soul leave her body. She always thought she would feel it, just before she followed. Maybe this is why she had such a difficult time accepting that her wife's life had come to such an abrupt end. All she remembers are those eyes, the eyes she had seen in her premonition. What, if anything, had Emma seen? Regina remembers vividly the last time she saw life behind those pupils. Her girl was gone, but she, herself, was still very alive.

"It's okay Regina. Everything's going to be okay." Though Mary Margaret's goal was to sound reassuring, she only succeeded in agitating the already distraught woman. "No, don't—don't get upset."

Why does her mother-in-law have to be here? She wanted to stay with Emma, even if it was only a memory. She would willingly relive those final moments if only to stay with her love.

"Try to stay calm or they'll sedate you again," the younger woman begs. "Regina, you're in the ICU. You've been here since yesterday. You were sedated because you nearly had a heart attack. They put you on a ventilator to help you breath. I didn't want them to do it, but I couldn't stop them. I'm so sorry."

Though she heard Mary Margaret's words, the broken queen is incapable of caring about her own well-being at this moment.

"I'm going to let Dr. Whale know that you're awake. Just stay calm Regina."

This is a fate worse than death. She is forcibly being kept alive when all she wants is to be reunited with her love.

The charismatic Victor Frankenstein approaches.

"How long has she been awake?"

"She just woke up…maybe a few minutes."

"Regina, do you know where you are?"

The steady stream of tears is answer enough. Though Whale, as he is known to the residents of Storybrooke, is not the queen's biggest fan, his heart breaks for the expectant mother, widowed only two nights ago.

"We brought you to the ICU in order to monitor you more closely. We had to intubate. The deep sedation made it difficult for you to breathe on your own and we also want to ensure the safety of your child."

Unable to speak, she pleads with her eyes. Thankfully, her doctor understood the unspoken concern.

"She's doing fine. But it's important that you stay calm and comfortable. We have you hooked up to a fetal monitor, so we'll know if your baby is experiencing any stress."

Knowing that her daughter is safe, Regina lightly closes her eyes.

"Now that you're awake, would you like us to remove that tube?"

* * *

After the breathing tube was removed, Regina vaguely remembers Whale babbling something about eating, though food is the last thing she can think about at this time. Regretfully, she agreed to sip some water—mainly, to ease her throat. She needs to get some questions answered, but she can't do that unless she can speak.

Mary Margaret offered to help Regina since she still had no use of her hands, which remain bound as per Whale's insistence.

As the bent straw is removed from her mouth, Regina whispers, "Where's my son?"

"He's with David. He's all right." She tries to sound reassuring. "Would you like to see him?"

Regina winces at the thought of a visit from the son she and her wife shared. Seeing him, holding him, though she knows the only thing that would comfort her now would be to hold him, would make the horrible truth unbearable. She is nowhere near ready for a reality without Emma.

"I don't want him to see me like this."

Whether or not she understands her daughter-in-law's reason, Mary Margaret desires to respect Regina's wishes. She nods. "I'll call David and tell him you're awake so Henry doesn't worry."

Perhaps she should just keep her eyes closed for the rest of her life, Regina thinks. Every time she opens them and doesn't see Emma the tear flow is triggered. She gulps hard, not wanting to lose face in front of her former nemesis.

"Where is she?"

Mary Margaret hesitates, understanding that anything she says is going to upset her already overcome daughter-in-law. "Regina…"

It must have been her quivering chin that made it sound like a request. This time the demand will be understood. "Where…?"

Startled by Regina's forcefulness Mary Margaret answers, "They took her body to the morgue."

If Regina's eyes had not been attached by muscles, she is certain they would have leapt out of the sockets. Her wife will not be discussed in such a manner. Mary Margaret has no right to reduce Emma to an empty vessel. The fury that she had relied upon for decades takes over. "You left her alone?"

Unsure of what Regina is capable in her condition, a frightened Mary Margaret begins to sputter.

"Regina, they need to do an autopsy to find out what happened." Hoping those won't be her last words she quickly adds, "They're waiting for your permission."

In the past the hardened queen had tortured, murdered and spread unspeakable carnage without even blinking an eye. This is entirely different. Even if her love would be spared pain, she could not allow such a disrespectful occurrence. If she could not protect Emma in life, at least she would do so in death.

"No one touches her," the queen growls.

That look—Snow White had seen that look many times in the Enchanted Forest though it scares her more than ever, in this moment. It is feral, it is unnatural. This look is beyond terrifying. Now she is grateful that Whale insisted on the restraints. She only hopes they will hold. A broken heart triggered the Evil Queen once, it can happen again.

"Her death was so sudden…"

Mary Margaret realizes immediately that she had picked the absolute worst time to reason with the grieving widow.

"I said: No one!" the queen commands, her tone carrying the authority of an unchallenged monarch.

She tried to be strong for her daughter's widow, but the grieving mother can only be pushed so far. "Do you think my heart isn't shattered into a million pieces?"

That got the queen's attention.

"I lost my daughter!" Mary Margaret feels herself caving in. "That's not supposed to happen. A mother isn't supposed to outlive her child." She can scarcely get the words out. "I loved her before she took her first breath."

Regina can hardly distinguish what Mary Margaret says next.

"She wasn't supposed to go before me."

Over the years, Snow White's daughter had helped Regina gain control over her Evil Queen side and this time is not different. Without conscious effort Regina is brought back to balance by the light of her life—her Emma. She can see her so clearly, smiling, laughing; just being her lovable self. How is she going to survive without her? The sorrow returns.

"She's alone." It was less of a question and more of a realization. "How could you leave her alone?"

As much as it kills Mary Margaret to see Regina in this state, less than forty-eight hours ago she lost her daughter, she is practically vibrating from the rising anger and responds through gritted teeth. "She's dead."

That made it real.

"Get out," she can barely speak through uncontrolled sobbing.

The grieving mother storms out of the ICU. Snow White, the princess who had been the symbol unyielding hope to her people had lost her reason for living.

"Mary Margaret," Whale questions as he passes.

"She's your problem now."

* * *

Alone in her room, the bereaved cried for what must have been hours as she watched the sun set and the sky darken. Requiring no further sedation, Whale had Regina moved out of intensive care and into a private room. The ICU had not allowed Regina to grieve adequately, as she was continually interrupted by excessive monitoring. The solitude allowed her to mourn more effectively.

By three o'clock in the morning her pillowcase was completely saturated and cold. It should have been terribly uncomfortable and anyone else would have called the night nurse to bring them a new one, but the evidence of the queen's sorrow comforted her. She knew the idea was absurd, but, in a way, as long as she continued to cry, she imagined, she could keep Emma with her. She concentrated on the warmth from fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, dampening her hair and seeping into the back of her gown, as though they were a manifestation of Emma's presence. She needed to feel her—somehow. A few times she thought she heard Emma's voice saying, "I'm here, Regina. I'm here and I love you." But she knew that it was only in her mind.

As the hours passed, Regina's loneliness grew. She only found respite when exhaustion finally claimed her, close to dawn. In sleep she could exist in a fantasy. It didn't matter what she imagined, anything was better than this living nightmare.

She was once again in the diner. It was beautifully lit with candles and decorated with arrangements of red and yellow roses. Everything was as it had been that night. Only this time the establishment was empty.

"Emma? Emma, where are you?"

No response.

She walked over to the display that their friends and family had created, similar to the table at their wedding reception. There were two glasses of champagne positioned side-by-side, next to the un-touched three-tier cake, but there was no trace of her love—or anyone. Surrounding her was emptiness. She fed into absolute loneliness until she felt herself being awakened.

"Your Majesty, breakfast is here. Would you like to try eating something?"

"Go away," Regina vacantly mumbles.

"The doctor won't discharge you until you're eating again and walking."

Regina turns to face the persistent nurse, her eyes glistening. "He wants me to walk?" she repeats.

"After you've had some breakfast we're going to try walking up and down the hall. You're still recovering from the effects of anesthesia, so we'll take it slow." The warm woman helps Regina into a sitting position. She inquires about the pillow. "Were you lying in this all night?"

For a few minutes Regina had forgotten about the longest night since her wife's demise and submits to the grief overtaking her. But it is combated by an unexpected hand around her wrist.

"You can't eat very well without use of your hands."

This gesture, the kindness of this stranger is so surprising to the despairing queen who believed for the longest time that she was unlovable. Regina only wishes she could remember who this woman was in their world. It doesn't matter, she decides. She would never forget her kindness.

"Try to eat something Mrs. Swan."

When she and Emma married they had agreed to hyphenate their last name, primarily for their son's sake. Though, in private, they often called each other by the other's surname. Henry, on the other hand, had been a Mills his whole life and his mother's believed it wouldn't be right to ask him to change it. Under the circumstance, Regina is grateful to relinquish the Mills identity all together. She is a Swan. This is one thing that cannot be taken away from her. She is still Emma Swan's wife.

"I'll come back with a fresh pillow."

Regina waits for the kind stranger to exit the room before sharing a precious secret. Resting a freed hand over her abdomen, she closes her eyes and imagines the treasure beneath. "We're going to see Mommy."

The promise of mobility was enough incentive for Regina to nourish her body. By this point—she still isn't sure how many days had passed—her stomach seemed to have forgotten food. She managed to force a few spoonfuls of bland oatmeal and a couple of bites of dry toast. At least, she was drinking without a problem. She could never refuse apple juice, but the tiny container was hardly enough. The kind nurse was so pleased to see Regina consume anything; she quickly brought her more juice. Hydration was of utmost importance, especially during this vulnerable time.

Walking was especially difficult after being immobile for who knows how long. Still, she pushed through the discomfort. She had to get stronger and fast.

Later that night, without the watchful supervision of her day nurse, and making great haste, Regina unplugged her pump and monitors, removed the receptors and her IV, and slipped past the nurses' station unnoticed. Thankfully when they moved her, the hospital staff remembered to bring her belongings, so she had something to wear over her hospital gown. At least her coat blocked the draft. She had to get to Emma. She crept down the hall to the elevators. Thankfully, Storybrooke was not a large hospital with separate elevators for different sections of the building. She only hoped she'd be able to access the morgue with ease. Without her magic, she wouldn't know what to do. She kept moving forward. Nothing was going prevent her from seeing the woman she loves.

As expected, there is young orderly mopping the floors inside the morgue that evening. He couldn't be much older than her son by the looks of him. Henry. She remembers another reason she needs to get out of this place of nightmares. She quietly knocks on the security door, startling the young man in the process.

"You're not supposed to be down here," he informs upon opening the door.

Recent experience had shown that she could not depend on her magic. The queen decides to bluff. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes. I was warned about you."

Satisfied that she had successfully scared the poor guy half to death, she drawls with characteristic malice, "Then you know why I'm here."

The young man swallows the lump in his throat. "I can't let you in."

"You know who I am; then you know what I'm capable of." She grabs a fistful of the orderly's shirt to make her unsupported threat more effective.

He braces himself. "I don't want to die."

In the past, Regina would not have been affected by a peasant begging for his life. Emma had softened her. She wavers slightly, but remains firm. "Then let me in."

"Your majesty…" He pleads. "I'm sorry…"

She releases him. Defeated and entirely hopeless, she covers her eyes and proceeds to cry new tears of desolation. All she wanted was to be reunited with her love, but they remain separated.

The orderly could not comprehend why this woman was so feared. She is human and she had shown him mercy. "Do you need help getting back to your room, your Majesty?"

Not wanting to place more distance between her and her love, Regina whispers, "Leave me."

She listens for the footfall to grow softer, until it disappears. She uncovers blood-shot eyes to gaze longingly into the isolated, cold, forbidding room, bathed in obnoxious artificial light. Her Emma did not belong in there.

"Rumplestiltskin." Without conscious thought, the word passed her lips.

"I can't bring her back, Regina," a voice announces from behind her.

She didn't need to turn. She saw his reflection in the glass. She had always resorted to the darkness in times of hopelessness.

"I need to see her."

The Dark One takes a few short strides until he is standing next to his former student, surveying the empty room. "Well, you won't find her here."

"What do you mean?"

"Your wife was dead before her father had a chance to call for an ambulance. Or, don't you remember?"

"You tell me where she is or I'll…"

"Or, you'll what?"

That smirk—the only thing the queen wants more than to slap that smirk off the infuriating man's face is to see her love again.

"Face it, dearie. Without me, you have nothing." He pauses, surveying the state of the desperate woman—entirely satisfied with Regina's misery. "Though I don't see why I should help you."

"I'll give you anything. Anything," she begs.

Never did she think the day would come when she would hand over ultimate control to her former mentor. Nothing mattered anymore, not even her pride. Her heart died that night with Emma. As much as she knows that she shouldn't trust the Dark One, in this moment she doesn't care.

"Please, let me see her."

They are suddenly transported to another space. The light is much dimmer and the temperature drastically colder. What makes the atmosphere particularly foreboding is the wall of what appear to be seven foot deep filing cabinets. Is it possible that her sleeping princess could be among them? Regina appraises the stainless steel drawers stacked one on top of another. Normally such a sight would not bother the woman who had her own chamber filled with drawers of beating hearts. But, in this room the finality of death is overpowering. Hopeless, she begins to weep.

"I can't feel her anymore."

A drawer to Regina's right opens and slowly rolls out. She glances in the direction of the man who made this encounter possible before inching toward the inevitable.

The figure is shrouded. Does she dare turn back the white sheet to reveal the inhabitant's face? She inhales a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what she might see.

It is her.

The queen is filled with more peace than expected. There are no tears, only love. Even in this petrified state Emma would appear to be sleeping if her eyes were shut. They are still fixed in place, as they had been that night. She is pale, she cold, and, in preparation for the autopsy, she naked. This is so unnatural. Regina wants nothing more than to bring Emma home; get her warm, get her clothed. How can this be her reality? Not long ago she had felt the warmth of her wife's body united with hers; her breath against her skin. They were never supposed to be separated, not this way.

"Please don't be gone. Please." Her voice is only a whisper. "Our story's not over yet."

The tears return as soon as her lips touch the disturbingly cold flesh on her wife's forehead, the cruel certainty finally sinking in. She tries to scream. At first, silence—until she lets out a guttural wail and slowly crumbles to the icy tile.

"Regina…"

The queen is inconsolable. The Dark One tries again to get her attention. His own plans are of more importance.

"Regina…"

The queen becomes animated.

"Where are her clothes? She needs her jacket."

"I believe the family requested an autopsy."

"I'm her family! And no one touches her!"

"I think her parents will fight you on that."

"No." She scrambles to a standing position, her knees wobbling beneath her. She has to steady herself on the steel drawer for support. "Emma. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Patches of pink skin remain where Regina's tears had fallen upon her beloved's face—so cold. She shouldn't be this cold.

"I have to get her out of here," Regina insists.

"Do you really think it wise to steal the body?"

"She belongs with me!" She is in absolutely no mood for Rumple's snide remarks. "I can't let them cut her apart." She releases her beloved to meet the Dark One's judgmental stare. "What do you want?"

"I see you're willing to make a deal."

"I need your magic."

"Careful, dearie, you might regret this."

As she absently pets the top of her wife's head, not even registering the deathly cold, she vows to preserve her. No harm would ever come to her princess. "Name your terms."

"If I help you…you relinquish all of your magic."

Regina panics. She would gladly trade her magic if she had any to barter with. There is no use denying it. "My magic's gone."

"Oh, no, it's still there." He points to Regina's growing belly.

She had been so overcome by the sight of her wife's lifeless body, she had forgotten about her child. "My baby?" Emma's baby. "You think I'd give you our baby?"

"Not your daughter," he clarifies, "her magic."

Under normal circumstances this news would not be so shocking. "She has magic?"

"She has the magic of both her mothers inside her. I could use that kind of power."

"Aren't you powerful enough?"

"Not nearly. With your child's magic, I would be unstoppable."

Regina wraps her arms around her growing bump. "You won't hurt her?"

"The transfer will not harm your daughter in any way."

The queen knew better than to trust this man, but she made a promise to Emma; she was not going to let anyone desecrate her remains.

"Take it."

"You realize what you're giving up."

"I realize what I'm gaining," she says with absolute conviction. "Take her magic—but under my conditions."

He clears his throat before speaking. "How might I assist you?"

"You'll do whatever I say?"

"I've already been guaranteed payment. What is it you desire?"

A satisfied smile crosses the queen's features. "Bring her to my vault. Make it so that decay never touches her body. Fashion a coffin fit for a queen that she will always be protected and I may gaze upon her beauty."

* * *

Nearly two hours later, Dr. Whale, the acting sheriff, and the medical examiner arrive at the abandon morgue.

"Why was she left alone?" David demands.

"I thought she needed to grieve in private." Whale's heart was in the right place, though the decision was not the wisest.

"There's not telling what she might do."

The medical examiner rushes to the Swan-Mills drawer. As expected he discovers only a wrinkled sheet upon opening.

David rests his hands on his hips. "Let me guess."

"Why would she remove the body?"

"Her heart is broken. She probably thinks she can bring her back. We need to find Regina. We find her; we find my daughter's body."

"Didn't you already check her vault?" Whale reminds. "Where else could she have gone?"

"She's there."

The three men turn to see Mary Margaret standing behind them, her arms folded across her chest.

David is the first to speak. "Where…?"

"She's in her vault."

"We searched all over, we couldn't find her."

"She doesn't want to be found." She says this as though it is the simplest explanation. "She is there."

"How are we going to get to her?"

"You're not." She inhales a shuddered breath. "Regina will let us in when she's ready."


	5. Chapter 5

**The last third of this chapter includes one of my favorite interactions. I hope it will become one of your favorites too.**

A few days passed with no word from Regina.

Mary Margaret felt as though she hadn't slept in years, due to a combination of the after affects of her daughter's sudden death, Regina's disappearance and worrying about her unborn granddaughter. David had been searching day and night for his missing daughter-in-law to no avail. He thought he might discover her in the Mills family vault, her usual retreat. But the fortress was abandoned, despite the resolve of the remaining Mills.

"Henry, we checked. There was no sign that she'd been there at all."

"Grandpa, I know she's there. Where else would she go?"

Mary Margaret intercedes. "I agree with Henry. Regina designed the catacomb. We're not going to be able to find her unless she wants to be found."

"We don't have that kind of time, she and the baby could be dead by then!"

"David," his wife reprimands. Mary Margaret places an encouraging palm on her worried grandson's forearm. Returning to an affectionate tone, she consoles, "Everything is going to be all right, Henry. We'll get to your mother in time."

"How?"

"You," the grandmother proudly informs. "She'll show up for you. She always has."

Henry tries to return the smile, but he has not fully recovered. "Is my mom going to be okay?"

Without hesitation, Snow White does what she does best. "Yes—because you're going to find her."

Later that afternoon, Henry hastened to the family crypt. He was adamant about making the trek on his own, believing that he would have a better chance of coaxing his mother out of her hiding place if he was unaccompanied.

His anxiety grows the deeper he descends into the Mills family mausoleum. Now, he understood why his grandfather recommended he carry a flashlight. He scolds himself for not complying. Normally there would be numerous candles illuminating the crypt, but all were extinguished. This made the frigid temperature even eerier. Anyone else might have turned back, but he had to proceed. Wherever his mother was she needed him. He continued to feel his way along the walls until reaching what he envisioned was a narrow passage. He decides to follow it. Surely it led somewhere. Though he had never considered himself claustrophobic, he began to wonder if he was even in a hallway to begin with, since he had to walk sideways in order to squeeze through the tapered space. If he was mistaken, he could become trapped. What if no one ever found him? Just as he begins to panic, he spies a faint light in his periphery. Inhaling as much oxygen as the passageway allowed, the space would not permit his lungs to expand fully, he presses on. He reaches another chamber, a solitary candle casting minimal light, making it impossible to appreciate the size of the space. His mother had been here and it is very possible she is still here. His senses compromised, he calls into the void, careful not to disturb the fragile women, wherever she might reside. "Mom…?" His first request dismissed, he inches deeper into the unknown. Perhaps she had not heard. "Mom…?" He can hear the desperation behind his plea. How could he let this happen? He was not supposed to cry. He expected himself to be strong for his mother. She needed him to be the strong one. But, in truth, he was frightened and he had never needed the safety of his mother's love more. "Mom, please…"

Not a second later, Henry feels his hand in a gentle grasp; the touch most familiar to him.

"Henry. I'm here." Her voice is calm and reassuring. "I'm right here."

He didn't need to see her. She was there. He collapses into his mother's embrace. Though her frame is slight, her hugs are stronger than ever. She had been vanquishing Henry's fears his whole life. She protected him then and she was protecting him now. Henry had not realized the toll recent events had taken on him until this moment as he lets himself be comforted by the most important person in his world.

"Is,"—he hesitates—"Mom here?"

"Would you like to see her?" She didn't need her son to verbalize his answer; the desire had already been implied. She guides him through the labyrinth.

Though Henry was now sixteen, probably too old by society's standards to hold his mother's hand, he didn't care. He needed her and she needed him. After a number of turns, they came to a stop. Henry wondered how his mother could find her way through this maze in the dark. Then, he remembered how much time she had spent here. His eyes having adjusted to the absence of light, Henry noticed his mother position her hand on a prominent brick in the stone wall. What looked solid, at first glance, rolled away to reveal another room that was as bright as day—though Henry is certain that the sun was not shining quite so brightly when he entered the crypt. The initial shock forced him to shut his eyes. Temporarily blinded, he feels his mother's grip tighten.

"Are you ready…?"

The room comes into focus.

He wasn't sure how he would react upon seeing his mother's lifeless body for the first time and braced himself before approaching Emma's resting place. It was not a dismal coffin, the kind he expected to see. It was a garden that appeared to be cradling his mother's body. Flowers grew all around her, seeming to kiss her skin with their petals. She was beautiful. The only thing reminiscent of a sarcophagus was the glass cover shielding her against the elements.

Without conscious thought, Henry voices his observation. "She looks like an angel."

He feels his mother's fingers intertwine with his, seeming to depend on him for survival.

"Yes," she whispers. "She's a sleeping angel…waiting for the day when we can all be together again."

Henry relaxes in his mother's touch, as he welcomes the serenity filling his heart. At least Emma is not in pain. "Can you bring her back?" He knew that if anyone could perform such a feat it would be his mother.

"I can't." The regret in her voice is unmistakable. She turns to face him. "We're going to be all right. "You, me"—she hesitates—"and your sister."

Though Henry is almost taller than his mother now, he wraps his arms around her, the way he had when he was little. "I'll take care of you Mom."

She reciprocates the hug. "I see so much of your mother in you. You have her strength. And I know that she could not have been prouder of the young man you've become."

"I love you, Mom," he mumbles into her shoulder.

"I love you Henry."

Henry isn't sure how long he stayed there. He was just content to be in the proximity of his moms again. With the most important women in his life, his soul could find respite. Henry wondered if his mother ever slept, the way her eyes remained fixed on the sleeping princess. Her forlorn stare indicated just how intensely she longed to be with Emma. Henry could only imagine the pain in his mother's heart.

When she invited him to rest against her, they were seated side-by-side, he promptly began to doze, lulled by his mother's breathing.

The lost woman's attention drifts when she detects her son's bobbing head. It becomes clear to Regina that her tired boy had not achieved adequate sleep since Emma's death; additionally it probably had something to do with her own absence. Guilt stricken, she proposes,

"Honey, why don't you go back to your grandparents'?"

Henry knew his mom was not saying this because she didn't want him there. This suggestion came from a place of love. She always sought the best for him.

"You're not coming with me?" It was more of a realization than a question.

"No."

"Then I'm staying," he firmly announces.

She tries to argue. "Honey—"

"I'm not leaving you," he accentuates.

Her eyes misty, she advises, "Henry, you need to take care of yourself."

He adopts a softer tone. "Please, don't make me leave you."

Determined to stay strong for her child, she inhales deeply. "You need to get some good rest"—she begins petting his face—"and a decent meal."

"I'm not hungry," he fibs.

She informs, in that mom tone Henry had come to know so well, "I can hear your stomach growling."

He doesn't deny it. "What about you?"

She is silent at first. "I'm where I need to be."

He wraps his arms around her shoulders. As much as Henry yearned to carry his mother to safety, he respected her wishes. An unexpected stir beneath Regina's coat startles the pair.

When Henry identifies the reason for alarm he is filled with relief.

"Is she okay?"

Regina indicates the place where she felt the movement. "She's awake." Seeing her son's hesitation, she encourages, "It's okay." She brings his hand the spot of activity.

"I'm sorry." He is voice is muted.

"Oh, baby. Honey, why are you sorry?"

"She won't know…" Exhaustion made it difficult to keep the tears at bay. "She won't know how much Mom loved her."

"Yes she will," Regina avows, "because you and I and your grandmother and grandfather are going to make sure that she grows up knowing how much her mother loved her." She hugs him tighter. "You should go before it gets too late. I don't want you walking home in the dark." Releasing him, she kisses his cheek. Sensing his reluctance, she offers her flashlight to him. "I noticed you forgot yours."

He hugs her again.

"Henry, I love you."

"I love you Mom."

"I'm sorry I can't go with you."

He breaks the comfortable hug. Casually wiping his cheeks, he inquires, "How do I…?"

"When you go out, make a left. Follow that hallway to the end; then make a right. You'll be in the main chamber, where you'll find the stairs. It's much easier to go that way."

Restored by his mother's love, Henry stands to leave.

"I'll come back tomorrow."

She smiles sadly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Before departing he returns to his sleeping mother. As if sharing a private conversation, he nods his head.

* * *

"Regina?" Mary Margaret effortlessly pushes back the wall according to her grandson's instructions.

The first thing that catches her eye is the glass case displaying the garden. She is drawn to it. As she approaches the enclosure, she can almost detect features belong to her daughter, hidden behind the surrounding flowers. It is Emma. Without thinking, she reaches for her baby.

"Touch her and you die," a haunting voice behind her warns, booming in the deathly silence. Only one person possesses such a terrifyingly low register.

Mary Margaret turns. It's no wonder she had not spotted her daughter's widow when she first entered the room. Ensconced by shadows and shrouded in black, the hunched woman is almost indistinguishable. She would have been invisible if not for her pale complexion contrasting the background of the tomb.

"I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now," Mary Margaret apologizes. "But I can't just turn my back on you."

When Regina continues to brood Mary Margaret attempts to explain her reason for violating the grieving woman's privacy.

"Henry didn't want to betray your trust, but he's worried about you. We all are."

Believing that her words are falling on deaf ears, she turns back toward the light—her daughter.

"She looks so peaceful."

Regina lifts her head from its bowed position. Emma always commanded her attention.

Mary Margaret continues, "Did I ever tell you about the day that Emma told me how she felt about you?" Lost in thought, she doesn't wait for an answer. Keeping her eyes on the tranquil sight she proceeds with her story. "It was when she realized that she had fallen in love. I had a feeling about the two of you, but I didn't anticipate the depth of my daughter's devotion. That's the only word for it. She told me how she felt every time you entered a room, every time you spoke her name"—she has to pause—"every time you looked at her." "She couldn't believe that she got so lucky to be looked at as though the sun rose just for her. She never felt like an orphan with you." She gulps. "She was complete." Mary Margaret wipes her eyes before turning toward the woman who won her daughter's heart. "I will be forever grateful to you Regina for making the last years of my daughter's life so wonderful."

The queen is visibly moved. "I just wanted her to be happy."

"She was. You gave her everything she had ever wanted"—she recalls Emma's joy upon learning that Regina was pregnant with her child—"and more."

"But I couldn't save her."

"No one could have prevented the heart attack."

Becoming animated, Regina expresses, "There must have been some indication that anything was wrong and I was too self-involved to see it."

"I'm her mother and I didn't see it," Mary Margaret commiserates.

"But I'm her wife," she emphasizes. "I slept next to her every night; woke up next to her every morning. I should have seen something."

"Emma didn't give any indication that there was something wrong. She probably didn't know."

"So now you're blaming her?" the queen fumes.

Mary Margaret sighs. She cautiously approaches the withered woman, crouching next to her. "I'm only saying that you can't blame yourself."

"I can," Regina establishes, her tone ominous, "and I will."

Defeated, Mary Margaret switches tactics. "When was the last time you saw sunlight?"

Regina's expression grows vacant. "She's right here."

"How long are you planning to stay down here?"

"Until I can join her," is her programmed response.

"Regina, your baby is draining all of the nutrients from your body. If you continue denying yourself basic human needs you're going to die."

"Good," she challenges.

A sudden chill reverberates up Mary Margaret's spine.

Though now is the absolute worst time to argue with her former nemesis, she decides to confront her. "Your life isn't the only one you're putting in jeopardy." That got through to her.

"Emma's daughter deserves to have life." Regina is practically vibrating. "She is the only reason I haven't taken mine."

There is no way she is leaving a suicidal mother alone. "I'm getting you out of here." Mary Margaret takes hold of Regina's painfully thin wrist.

"No, I'm not leaving her!"

Mary Margaret is honestly surprise by the weakened woman's strength. She tries to restrain her, but she is careful not to hurt the baby. As they struggle, she hears herself shout, "Regina, she's gone."

They break apart.

If looks could kill, Mary Margaret would be dead where she stands.

"I hate you." Her voice is a low rumble.

Mary Margaret tries to make herself appear as small as possible. "I know."

As if possessed by the most powerful dark magic, the queen advances. Grabbing a fistful of the younger woman's collar, she presses the object of her detestation into the wall. "It's you who belongs in that coffin," she growls. Her teeth are bared.

Believing that her time had come, Mary Margaret confesses, "I wish it was me in that coffin instead."

As if stunned, the queen weakens.

"I would give anything to trade places her," the grief stricken mother cries. "She wasn't supposed to go before me." She slumps to the floor.

Unable to control her trembling body, Regina limps to her wife's coffin. She collapses on the lid, a sharp contrast to the figure under the glass.

"Leave us." Regina's voice is barely a whisper.

Mary Margaret crawls the short distance. It is in this moment that she realizes how much Regina believes herself responsible for Emma's untimely death; the anger is only displaced. She rests a forgiving hand on her former enemy's shoulder. "I'm not leaving without you."

"I am staying with my wife."

"Regina, you'll die if you stay here."

Having used her last bit of strength in the struggle, Regina pleads, "I want to die. Why can't you just let me die?"

Mary Margaret chooses her words carefully. "I have no idea what you must be going through. But you are not the only one who lost her. After watching my daughter die in front of me I stayed with you because I knew that's what Emma would have wanted. Have you even considered your wife's wishes, or the needs of her children?" "Your children," she stresses.

Regina hides her face in shame.

"Your son already lost one of his mothers. He doesn't deserve to lose both of you. And your daughter hasn't even been born. If you stay on this self-destructive path, she may not have a chance." The grief made her say things that she normally would keep hidden. "It's time to stop wallowing and be a parent."

"Emma," Regina wails.

"It's okay. Regina, it's okay."

"I'm sorry. Please…" She begins to choke.

An overwhelming urge to comfort this woman possesses Mary Margaret; she embraces her daughter's widow. "She loves you. She has always loved you." This gesture combined with Mary Margaret's confident assertion calms Regina.

"I hurt the baby."

Mary Margaret continues to repair the damage. "Your body will take care of the baby first, but if you die she won't have a chance."

"Emma, I'm sorry."

"Believe me when I tell you: Emma doesn't blame you for anything." The grieving mother heard herself say the words, but they came from somewhere else. The depth of her daughter's love seems to have transcended death.

"How do you know?"

The innocence of Regina's question catches the younger woman off guard. She smiles. "I know how much she loved you." Hoping to redirect Regina's focus, she retrieves an object from the interior pocket of her coat, the metal catching the light in the process.

Regina recognizes the jewelry immediately. "My swan—I told her I'd never take it off."

"You didn't," Mary Margaret corrects. Her voice is serene. "They had to remove it when they admitted you. They gave it to me for safe keeping."

Regina extends a shaky hand, but she is too overcome to don the precious object.

Mary Margaret offers her assistance, returning the swan to its rightful owner. "She wants you to take care of yourself."

Regina clutches the pendant as if she would suffocate without it. "I can't go on without her."

"Yes you can. And I'm going to help you."

"The baby…"

Mary Margaret radiates the warmth of her daughter's love to the hopeless woman. "You are not going to lose her. She's strong. She's part of you and part of her mother. She's going to be just fine."

"Emma loved her so much." She regards her princess. "I thought if I preserved her…then maybe, one day, I would find a way to bring her back."

"Regina…"

"I know that's not possible. I just couldn't," she trails off.

"You don't have to let her go if you're not ready."

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready."

"You don't have to think about that now. Come on," –she guides the fatigued woman to her feet—"we need to get you to the hospital."

* * *

When Mary-Margaret brought her daughter-in-law to the hospital Regina was severely dehydrated. Though Whale understood that the last thing Regina wanted to hear was that if she didn't start taking care of herself she might die, he was very blunt in his instruction. Regina's own mortality would not have been a concern if it wasn't for the life inside her. This is why Whale was hesitant to assure his patient that the baby was in no immediate danger. He ordered bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy, but was reluctant to discharge her given her self-destructive tendencies. Thanks to Regina's tender-hearted mother-in-law Whale agreed to release his patient on the condition that she remained under Mary Margaret's care and constant supervision. As miserable as she was in the hospital, Regina could not bear the thought of returning to the empty mansion that was once the home she and Emma shared. Mary Margaret and David had already planned to have Regina live with them for the remainder of her pregnancy. David and Henry would share the loft. Snow would sleep downstairs on the couch and Regina would stay in the master bed.

It actually brought Regina some solace being in the apartment that once belonged to her wife. She hoped that it also helped their son. Her appetite had still not returned, but the Charmings were working on that.

"I thought you could use this." David hands her a familiar white bag. She had often seen similar bags positioned on the corner of her wife's desk at the sheriff's station, which is why she had some idea about its contents. She opens the bag, the aroma from the bear claw tantalizing heightened senses.

"Thank you."

He sets a take-away coffee cup on the nightstand. "This'll taste good with it."

The familiar aroma activates a craving.

Perceiving her conflict, he adds, "It's decaf."

"I never doubted," is her curt response.

Resting his hands in the back pockets of his jeans—David reminded Regina so much of her late wife—he attempts to strike up a conversation. "How's my granddaughter."

"She's very active. I don't know what all the excitement is about."

"It must be the bear claw."

Though his smile is entirely annoying, Regina becomes more receptive. "She is her mother's child." Unexpectedly, her chin begins to quiver. "It hurts." She buries her face in her hands.

The charming man doesn't wait for an invitation. He sits on the edge of the bed and wraps his frail daughter-in-law in a protective embrace. "I wake up ever day thinking that there must've been something that I could have done to prevent what happened," he shares. "I was supposed to protect her."

She sniffs. "We both failed."

"And the worst part is we have to go on living; you especially."

She straightens up. "If it wasn't for the baby, I don't think I could."

"Try to eat something."

She breaks off a tiny piece of the monstrous pastry as David pulls up a chair next to the bed.

Regina had resented the Charmings for force-feeding her over the past month, but with the pastry in her mouth she felt as though she was sharing this experience with her love. "I think she's happy." She clarifies for her father-in-law, "the baby."

That comment delighted the thoughtful man. "It was her mother's favorite."

"She's going to be just like her, isn't she?"

He agreed. "Did I ever tell you about the day you told Emma you were pregnant?"

Regina pauses mid-chew. "No." Now that the baby knows what she has, she cannot stop eating. At least, she decided to blame the baby. There was no way she would crave such a decadent treat. But David was right. It did taste amazing with coffee.

"She told me first."

Regina's eyes widen. "She told you without me?"

David erupts with laughter. He understood that Regina wouldn't hold a grudge over such a trivial thing. "You should have seen her after you left her office. Nothing could reduce her happiness."

She tries to sound offended though she cannot stop the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Just picturing Emma's elation made her smile. "I can't believe she told you without me."

David gives his daughter-in-law an even greater reason to smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I think her mother was the last to know."

"That does make me feel better." She doesn't even try to hide her amusement. "I can't stay mad at her."

"She was so proud."

"I suppose impregnating me did earn her bragging rights."

Had he known how much he would enjoy this exchange he would have brought her a bear claw sooner. "She was proud of her family."

"What did she say when she told you?" It must be the sugar that makes David Nolan interesting, Regina thinks.

"I'll never forget it. After you left, she came out of her office with the goofiest grin on her face." Regina's eyes fill with tears, but she is obviously entranced. "She threw her arms around me. It was clear that she was happy, that's why I was confused when she started crying. I just held her and rocked her until she calmed down. It was a few minutes before she could speak. And then I heard the most beautiful words my daughter has ever said to me. "Dad, I'm going to be a mother again." Regina loses face. "The love of my life is having my baby." He begins rubbing soft circles on his pregnant daughter-in-law's back. "Those were her exact words: 'The love of my life is having my baby'." He continues to soothe her. "It never even occurred to me to ask how, because it was you and Emma. Your love can do anything."

When Regina recovers, she shares her side of the story.

"I remember when I found out. I was in my office. I was very fidgety that day because of a recent conversation I'd had with my mother-in-law."

David is obviously hooked. "What did she say?"

"She was being Snow and gushing about wouldn't it be wonderful if Emma and I had a baby. I felt the need to remind her that two women couldn't conceive. She was not affected by that comment in the slightest…just happy to stay in her daydream."

"You made all of her dreams come true by giving her a granddaughter."

"And she never lets me forget it."

They share a much needed laugh.

"So, what happened?"

"I couldn't get your wife out of my head. I could practically feel her willing my daughter to exist. Needless to say, I grew paranoid. Rationally I knew that Mary Margaret had no bearing on whether Emma and I conceived, but I inventoried changes in my body that I hadn't considered prior to that conversation. After returning to my office, I started researching symptoms of early pregnancy. I spent two hours reading everything I could find until"—she sighs—"I couldn't ignore it anymore. But, I still wondered how I could be pregnant. I hadn't been with anyone except my wife for nearly two years. That left only one possibility. I went to the drug store on my lunch hour. I was supposed to have lunch with Emma, but I needed to find out first."

He interrupts, "I remember her telling me that you had to cancel."

"Was she upset?" Her expression is filled with remorse.

"She was disappointed because she was looking forward to seeing you. But you more than made up for it when you showed up at the station," he comforts. "So, what did you do?"

"I bought a home pregnancy test—stole actually," she admits. "I paid for it later. Or, rather, Emma did. The last thing I needed was the entire town knowing my business. You're aware how rumors spread."

He holds up his hands in surrender. "No judgment here."

"I went back to my office and..." She searches her memory. "I remember seeing the result, but I don't remember what I felt. I think I was in shock. I'm not sure how long it took me to process that I was carrying Emma's child, but I was a complete mess by the time I looked in the mirror. I must have been crying for a while, because all of my makeup was gone. As soon as I could formulate coherent thought I tried to call Emma, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking long enough to press the speed dial on my phone. I think I was afraid because I didn't know how I was going to explain it. I needed to see her. I knew if I could see her, hold her, then everything would be okay. That's when I got in my car and raced to the station. When I saw her sitting at her desk, greeting me with that smile, there was all of the love in the world behind her eyes—and a great deal of concern. It hadn't occurred to me that my appearance would be so disturbing. All I could think about was Emma; I was terrified of losing her. I couldn't even speak, so I let the stick speak for itself."

"What was her reaction?"

"At first she looked as if she had seen a ghost and then"—she has to swallow her tears before continuing—"she held me. Her touch was so delicate. My body quieted immediately, because I knew that she loved me; there was no doubt. She didn't require an explanation, never once questioned my faithfulness. She just took my face in her hands, looked into my eyes and whispered, 'We're going to do it together.' I never intended to stop kissing her, but then she started fussing over me, asked me if I was hungry, she wanted me to put my feet up. And she definitely tried to discourage me from going back to work. But if I insisted on returning, which I did, she basically begged me to let her drive me back. It was ridiculous—and adorable."

David and Regina are sporting matching smiles.

Regina continues, "We both enjoyed a good laugh when she finally realized how silly she was being."

"I thought I heard a lot of laughter coming from her office."

"I think she forgot that she had been pregnant before."

"But, it was you."

A steady stream of tears is initiated. "Yeah." She sniffs. "And she is your daughter." Regina accepts the offered box of tissues before continuing. "I swear to you, with every look, every unnecessary worry—just—everything, I fell more in love with my wife."

"How did you convince her to let you go back to work?"

"Well, I couldn't at first. I needed to stay with her until she calmed down. It took a little while. She did not want to let go of me."

"I'm sure she didn't."

"I promised that I was fine and that I would see her in a few hours, but I could tell that she was a nervous wreck." Her trembling lower lip makes it difficult to speak. "I had never felt so loved." She blows her nose before casually returning to the topic. "I barely got any work done the remainder of the day, because all I wanted was to go home and be in the arms of my baby's mother."

David inhales a deep breath, wiping away his tears with his hands. "Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for telling on your daughter." She is startled. "Hi honey."

David laughs. "She knows we're talking about her."

"She knows we're talking about her mother." Regina's glow has returned. "Yes, Mommy was so proud of you."

"I'm proud of you," he emphasizes.

"Now I feel foolish for spending all those years trying to kill you."

"You didn't know you were going to marry my daughter."

She shakes her head, a single tear trailing down her cheek. "For a short time, I had the greatest life."

David is once again by Regina's side, keeping her anchored in his strong embrace.

"Please make her not dead."

The steadfast man's heart crumbles. Unable to grant their greatest wish, he hugs Regina tighter.

"I hate waking up because she's not there," Regina laments. "I still expect to feel her next to me."

"Every morning I look for her." He sniffs. "I expect to see her coming down those stairs or sitting at the counter with a bowl of cereal."

"She did love her cereal," Regina mumbles.

"I try to spend as little time at the station as possible."

"Our tax dollars hard at work…"

He kisses the top of her head. "We're going to be all right." He releases her. "Are you okay?"

"It's just the baby."

He tries to make light of the situation with the help of his granddaughter. "She doesn't let you forget that she's there."

"She keeps me going," Regina murmurs.

"Have you given any thought to what you'd like to name her?"

"I can't really think about that right now."

"When the time comes you'll know."

"Thank you, David."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for your patience. I've included a little surprise at the end of this chapter to make up for the delay. I hope you enjoy it.**

The remainder of her pregnancy seemed to last an eternity. To Regina, it felt as though a year had passed since she moved in with the Charmings. But the pain of her wife's untimely death was still fresh. To make matters worse, in accordance with Whale's stipulation, Regina was not allowed to be left alone. Either one of her in-laws or her son—she never minded Henry's company—or the entire family was with her twenty-four, seven.

Snow White took her role as caregiver very seriously. Although she tried to encourage a nutritious diet, there was minimal compliance on Regina's part. As long as her daughter-in-law was eating, Mary Margaret was more than happy to give Regina anything she wanted. There was one problem. Regina only wanted to be left alone.

She needed to be with Emma. She needed to scream. She needed to implode. Every breath she took seemed to further deplete her soul. Only in sleep could she find respite. Sometimes in her dreams she saw Emma, interacted with her—another reason waking was torture. She longed to be with her wife, even if only in an unconscious state. Anything would be better than an existence without her.

* * *

In the thirty-eighth week of gestation, the Swan-Mills baby made her arrival, surprising everyone, especially her mother. Consumed by grief, Regina had not done anything to prepare herself for childbirth. Natural childbirth wasn't even a consideration. Unfortunately, by the time they reached the hospital just before two-o'clock that morning, it was too late for Regina to receive an epidural. She had no idea what to expect. Surely Dr. Whale explained it during one of her checkups, but, understandably, staying in the moment was near impossible for the expectant mother. Her wife was not part of the physical world anymore and, in her mind, neither was she. Her daughter's instance strongly suggested otherwise.

"Regina it's okay," her mother-in-law assured. "Your baby's ready to be born."

Thankfully, in a lucid moment, during one of their late night conversations Regina had thought to ask her former nemesis to stay with her in the delivery room.

"I can't do this," Regina begs as she is being prepped for delivery.

"Yes you can," Mary Margaret coaches. "You're the strongest person I know." She means it. Over the years she had watched Regina struggle to break away from a manipulative mother, recover after witnessing the brutal murder of her fiancé, endure being a prisoner in a loveless marriage, overcome soul-crushing darkness and, now, the untimely death of her true love.

"She's not here."

Mary Margaret knows that it should be her daughter holding Regina's hand. "She's with you. She's in your heart."

Desperate, Regina accepts her mother-in-law's affirmation.

"Focus all of your love for Emma into giving birth to her child." She adds, "Your daughter needs you."

Regina doesn't know how she got through the ordeal. She is only aware that the first tiny cry emitted by her child is the most excruciating part of the entire process when the harsh reality hits: It would be impossible to prevent her daughter from ever experiencing pain, even if she still possessed her magic.

 _She must be so cold_ , the helpless mother agonizes.

Her trance is disrupted.

"Regina, you did it! She's here. She's finally here."

Of course Snow White would be a blubbering mess. Having a granddaughter was a dream come true for the simple woman. And she was there to witness the birth.

Regina is oddly serene, her tears seeming to stop in their tracks as her eyes lock on the miniature person being placed on her chest.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty."i

The child calms instantly. This little life, so fragile, is her daughter. Gazing at her love, Regina senses a change inside her—though she is unable to identify it.

"Hello sweetheart." Her vision is blurred. This, right here, is all the magic she will ever need. "I've been waiting for you."

"Have you chosen a name?"

Regina had entirely forgotten about anyone else in the room, let alone anyone in the vicinity of her vagina. Bonding with her cherub had taken priority. Regina thinks back. She had not considered possible names for her child since the beginning of her pregnancy; so much had happened since then. There is only one name running through her mind—the only name that held meaning.

"Emma." The queen wipes her eyes with a free hand. "Her name is Emma."

Dare she look in the direction of her mother-in-law? The woman was overcome before, there's no telling her reaction. She decides to look anyway. Astonishingly, the younger woman appears to have found peace—something Mary Margaret believed she would never feel again after her daughter's premature passing.

"Thank you." Mary Margaret whispers through a steady stream of tears.

Her mother-in-law didn't have to go into detail, Regina already understood what the chosen name would mean to her family. She smiles weakly before turning back to the apple-of-her-eye.

"Your mother loved you so much. She will always be part of you."

Later that morning, Henry peaks into the private room accommodating his mother and newborn sister. All is quiet.

At first glance, his mother appears to be napping. She is sitting up, her eyes are closed and there is a visible bundle in her arms. He decides not to disrupt the tranquil scene and come back at a later time. As he is about to slip away, he is stopped by his favorite voice.

"Henry?"

He turns. "Hi Mom."

Regina's features brighten. "Honey, come in."

He doesn't know where the sudden bashfulness came from, only that he feels guilty for disturbing his mother when she looked so serene. "Is that my baby sister?"

Regina gently arouses the little nugget. "There's your big brother, Henry. He came to see you."

"Congratulations, Mom."

She kisses his cheek when he bends down to hug her. "Thank you, honey."

"What's her name?"

Regina beams at her baby girl. "Her name is Emma."

Henry's eyes begin to glisten. "Mom would love it." He casually wipes away the accumulated moisture before turning his attention to his baby sister. "Hi Emma."

The infant whines her response eliciting much needed laughter from her mother and brother. Nothing can shake Regina's smile as she falls more in love with her little girl with each passing second.

"My little baby has had a rough day."

"I'm sure she has. And you too."

"Yes. But it was worth it."

"It's good to see you smile again."

She extends her free hand, which Henry gladly accepts.

"I have both of my children together. You and your sister are my reason for living." She rubs the back of his hand with her thumb before releasing him. "Would you like to hold her?"

"Really?" Admittedly, he is a little nervous because this would be his first time holding a newborn.

His mother encourages him. "I could actually use a break. I think my arm is starting to fall asleep." She hadn't let go of her daughter since the infant was placed in her arms, hours earlier.

Henry is grateful for his mother's confidence. She made the whole process easier for him, carefully transferring the baby to his care.

Tears of joy fill Regina's eyes. Thankfully, Henry had been too distracted making faces at his sister to notice.

"Who do you think she looks like?"

She quickly recovers. "…Your mother." She adds, "Without a doubt."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling all right." Now that both hands are free, she uses this opportunity to adjust her blankets. "I'm just very tired and hungry."

Henry giggles. "That's not a good combo." This is the most normalized conversation he's had with his mother in months.

"No, it's not." She also recognizes the humor. "But, I'm very"—as she searches for an accurate word, she grows sorrowful. How could she ever be happy again? Luckily, the youngest present picks up on her mother's stress.

"Uh…Mom?"

The experienced mother effortlessly relieves her frightened son, stilling her baby in the process. "It's okay. Mommy's here. I've got you sweetheart."

"I didn't mean to upset her."

"Honey, you didn't do anything wrong." She doesn't take her eyes off her Emma. "I should have known…she's just not ready for me to let go of her." She sniffs. "Your grandmother hasn't even held her."

He feels terrible for making his mother cry. She had already been through so much.

"Come here." Regina guides her son to sit beside her. "You did nothing wrong." She delicately brushes her sensitive girl's cheek with the tip of her finger. "Your sister's probably hungry too."

"I can leave you two alone." Henry rises from the bed, but is stopped by his mother's gentle grasp.

"You don't have to leave."

"Are you sure?"

"I just need to get her settled."

He turns to face the door when his mother begins unbuttoning the side of her gown. The child has zero difficulty locating her mother's nipple and promptly goes to work. Mother and daughter got the hang of breast-feeding almost immediately. Little Emma made the process much easier for her anxious mother.

Regina lets her considerate son know it's okay to face her.

A sense of relief washes over him. He actually thought he had broken his sister. "I guess she was hungry."

Regina accurately perceives her son's tension. "You're not going to hurt her, Henry—or me," she assures. "Come, sit."

With his mother's permission he relaxes on the edge of the bed, careful not to jar the two most important women in his life. "She's so quiet now."

"She's your mother's child…easily subdued with food." Her voice reflects the serenity within.

"Was I like that when I was a baby?"

"Well," Regina begins. "I couldn't breast-feed you."

Henry's cheeks reflect his embarrassment. "I know."

"For the longest time you were inconsolable, I thought you hated me. You must have seen the real me, even as an infant."

"I'm sorry I was so difficult."

Regina is not about to let her son take the blame for her own shortcomings. "You are so much more than I could have hoped for and far more than I deserve."

His eyes fill with tears. "Please don't die."

"Oh, honey." She wants nothing more than to hold her son, but she needs at least one hand to support her infant. "I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever." "I love you," she whispers.

"I love you too." As he wipes away his tears, Henry voices his deepest desire. "I wish Mom was here."

Regina shuts her eyes. Sometimes the pain sneaks up on her. "I miss her too—everyday." She opens her eyes. "But I still have my children."

Henry offers her a weak smile.

"Do you know how much your mother loved you?"

He nods.

"I know you miss her, but she would want you to live your life and be happy. And I want you to be happy too. You don't need to worry about me. Your grandmother worries enough for both of you."

Henry knows his mother speaks the truth.

A few minutes of comfortable silence pass, until, out of the corner of her eye, Regina notices her son yawn.

"Are you tired?"

"I didn't get much sleep last night." He didn't need to say why, his mother already knew.

"I don't want you to lose sleep over me anymore. I'm being taken care of." Her smile is sincere. "Have you eaten?"

"No," he regretfully admits. "I came right here."

He hadn't seen the disapproving mother look in a while. At any other time it might make him sweat, but he is beyond delighted that his mother is starting to feel like herself again.

"You need to take care of yourself," she reminds.

He displays a sheepish grin. "I know." He stands to leave. "Can I get you anything before I go?"

"No, thank you. They should be bringing my breakfast soon."

"I love you, Mom." He kisses her.

"I love you too."

Left alone in the private room, Regina gazes at her daughter, who appears to have fallen asleep, as she shares a much needed moment with her baby's mother. "Thank you for my children."

* * *

For the first two weeks after baby Emma's arrival the Charmings stayed with Regina and Henry to help make the transition back to their home as smooth as possible. Honestly, Regina was grateful for the help. She hadn't valued the company of Mary Margaret before the baby. But taking care of a newborn on top of learning how to survive without her wife proved to be a near super-human feat.

As much as Regina denied it, she was particularly apprehensive when her in-laws made the decision to move out. It was comforting to have life around the house, especially lives that were connected to Emma. But, she understood all too well that a married couple needed to be alone. They depended on each other now, more than ever.

Mary Margaret would still spend days at the mansion, until the following week, when she planned to return to work. This decision was even more distressing, because, except for baby Emma, Regina would spend her days alone, until her son arrived home after school. But, even then, her teenager had his own life. He always had homework and any free time he wanted to spend with friends. Regina didn't begrudge him. It wasn't his fault that she was lonely.

At least Henry was adjusting better than expected to the new living arrangement. His grandparents had provided stability, which he so desperately needed after his mother's death. And in the last four months, he had matured a great deal. Regina didn't need to worry about him. Her son was finally start putting his life back together. She could not. But she had to keep living; Emma depended on her for survival. For her daughter she would do anything.

By nine o'clock that first evening without the in-laws—thankfully Mary Margaret had left several prepared meals in the fridge—the exhausted mother was fast asleep on the living room couch, while her baby snoozed next to her in the basinet.

The downstairs is quite, except for the tiny child, who begins to stir.

 _"Hi, peanut. Hi pretty girl,"_ a peaceful voice soothes. _"I'm your mommy."_ The child quiets. _"Sleep now, princess. Mommy needs her rest."_ The tone grows melancholy. _"I broke her heart."_ The voice, only a whisper, considers the quiescent woman. _"Please don't cry over me anymore."_

A barely detectable moan stimulates the sleeping queen.

"Emma?" she mumbles. For a second she spots what appears to be…her wife? She awakens with a jolt, requesting with more urgency, "Emma?" The apparition had vanished. Perhaps the exhaustion had caused her mind to play tricks on her, Regina reasons. Still, that mournful cry sounded too real. The baby demands comfort. "It's okay. Mama's got you." Standing made her dizzy. She sits. "I think I'm hallucinating. I thought I saw your mother." She focuses on rocking her daughter. "I wish you could have known her." She consoles, "I've got you, sweetheart. It's okay." Both mother and child begin to calm. "I promise, my love, I'm not going anywhere." She rests the infant on her shoulder. Perhaps the child needed to burp. Her suspicion is confirmed. "We're going to be all right, Emma." She kisses her daughter's cheek. "We'll be okay."

The next day came too soon. As usual, Regina's mother-in-law was knocking on the front door before eight o'clock that morning. Since resuming her position as interim mayor, she had made a habit of dropping by every morning around this time. Of course, Gold was ready to pounce on that job as soon as he learned of Regina's temporary leave of absence. But his plans were foiled by Regina's unlikely ally. It was good for Snow White to stay busy during this difficult time. Taking care of others helped her to get out of herself. If she didn't have this outlet, her sorrow would kill her.

"Did you sleep down here again last night?"

Regina's appearance would indicate that she hadn't slept at all. "I still can't sleep in our bed. I haven't, since…"

It doesn't take much to make Regina cry these days. She catches the broken woman.

"Regina, it's okay."

"I don't need your approval," she snarls.

"Of course you don't. I just mean…I understand—"

That was the absolute worst choice of words.

"How could you understand what I am feeling?" Regina catches herself, surprising Mary Margaret who was preparing for a thorough tongue lashing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I don't know what's wrong with me." She rests her weight on the couch that doubled as her bed.

"You just had a baby." Mary Margaret reminds, removing her jacket and setting it along with her pocketbook on the recliner. "That's a hard enough adjustment for anyone. And you're still grieving."

Regina's glare reveals her irritation.

Mary Margaret surrenders. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," Regina sighs. "I just want my wife to be alive."

Regina's newborn announces discomfort. How can she take care of her baby when she, the baby's mother, can't stop crying for two minutes? Regina worries.

"I've got her."

This is one time that Regina is actually grateful for her mother-in-law's interference.

Mary Margaret confidently lifts the screaming child. "Come here, sweetie." She attempts to pacify her granddaughter. "I think she's hungry."

Regina's body alerted her before Mary Margaret said anything. She had already begun unbuttoning her pajama top.

"It's okay. Grandma's got you. Okay. It's all right." She hands the infant to the child's fatigued mother. "Here's your mama."

A slow stream of tears trickles down Regina cheeks as she watches her daughter nourish herself.

"Are you okay?" She can tell that the breastfeeding schedule is taking a toll on her friend.

Regina shakes her head. The tears are unrelenting. "I was supposed to share this with her." She inhales a shuddered breath. "I can't help feeling closer to her each time I nurse our baby. I recommit myself everyday—to both of them." Without meeting Mary Margaret's eyes Regina voices something that had been weighing heavily on her mind. "I thought I saw her."

"What?" Regina didn't need to say who. Her shock is evident. "When?"

"Last night."

She decides to say the name out loud to make certain that she had correctly understood. "You saw Emma?"

She nods. "When I woke up in the middle of the night, I thought I saw her standing over the baby's basinet. She was talking to her. But—it was just a dream."

"Regina…"

Her features contort. "I'm in so much pain."

Mary Margaret springs to action, embraces the weeping woman, remaining mindful of her granddaughter. "I know." Whether they like it or not, they need each other. Despite their differences, their survival depends on mutual trust. "Look at this beautiful baby girl, Regina." The child is entirely oblivious to the situation; she is content just to be close to her mother. "I see so much of Emma in her."

Regina remembers her wife's uncompromising enthusiasm at mealtime. "She certainly eats like her."

"You hear that, honey?" Mary Margaret cheers, "You take after your mother."

There is a sudden eruption of laughter. If her mother-in-law only knew the accuracy of that statement, she'd appreciate the humor. Under any other circumstance, Regina would enlighten Snow White. In this case, she decides to spare her step-daughter turned mother-in-law the detail about her daughter sharing a similar fondness for her breasts.

"Your smile's back!"

Regina whisks away the remaining tears. "That's the first time I've laughed in,"—she tries to recall—"since…"

Mary Margaret beams, "It's okay to be happy, Regina. Emma wouldn't want you to live in misery."

"I know you're right. I just never imagined that I'd have to do this without her."

"You can do anything, Regina. You're strong."

"Except I'm not," Regina disagrees. "She keeps me going when all I want is to give up."

Mary Margaret glances at the clock on the mantel. She considers her options. "I don't have to go to work."

"No," Regina decides, "you should go. You've put your life on hold for me long enough."

"Regina, you're my family. And I'm here for you, always."

How did they get this far? It's a question that continues to baffle the queen. For now, she accepts this much needed friendship.

"Thank you."

"Henry will be back after school and I can come by tonight if you'd like."

"No, it's okay. I'll be fine," she insists.

"Are you sure?" Mary Margaret can see through that tough exterior. "Do you want me to bring you dinner?

She is adamant. "I'll be fine."

"You can call me anytime." She adds, "Day or night."

"I know."

She kisses Regina's cheek. "I'll see you in the morning then?" When Regina doesn't answer, she invites, "Is there something else?"

Regina hesitates. "I'm going to try sleeping upstairs tonight."

"Oh." She had hoped that one day Regina might be ready. This is much sooner than anticipated. "Are you sure?"

"No," Regina admits. "But Emma's room is waiting for her. I think she should sleep in her crib tonight."

* * *

Regina places her precious child in the crib she and her wife intended for their daughter. Earlier in the pregnancy, the expectant mothers would stand over the bedstead together, envisioning bringing their child home from the hospital and putting her to bed for the first time. She wipes away the offending tears.

"Okay, now, don't tell your grandmother." The tired woman wraps the cotton blanket around her shoulders and settles on the carpet, parallel to her daughter's crib. She had also brought the pillows from downstairs to make the transition easier. "This is just between us." She reaches between the rungs of the crib to grasp a miniature hand. "I love you, baby." As she begins to fade out of consciousness, she whispers a parting message to her child's mother. "I miss you."

Sleeping on the floor is terribly uncomfortable. That and she awoke with the slightest movement of her newborn. Close to dawn, the child makes her demands known. It must have been the lack of sleep that made Regina delirious. She could swear that she saw a blonde figure leaning over the crib before she was fully alert, just as she had the previous night.

"Emma?" _Where did she go?_ "Emma?" Her child grows increasingly upset. "Come here, baby." She eases into the rocking chair before situating her hungry daughter, using the fluffiest pillow as added support for tired arms. "Mommy's falling apart." It's clear that baby Emma is much more interested in her breakfast, but Regina decides to sort her thoughts anyway. "I keep thinking that I see your mother. I know it's not true, but I feel her. I feel her in this house. Maybe it's because you're here." The tiny child is positively ravenous. "You are my reason for getting up every morning. You give my life purpose." She smiles. "I love you, Peanut." After Emma had finished her meal, was adequately burped, and received a fresh diaper, the weary mother retreats to the adjoining room. There was no point lying on the floor anymore.

The sun had just begun peaking over the horizon. Mary Margaret would be there in a few hours. Since she was already awake, Regina decided this would be an opportune time to shower. There is one problem: Showering requires more energy than she has to spend. Her resources had been depleted. She rests on the edge of the bed—so many memories. The last night she shared with her wife plays in her mind. _How could she be gone?_

"I thought you didn't like that name."

Regina is petrified. That voice…it's her.

"Can you hear me?"

The perplexed woman turns. She cannot believe her own eyes. It's Emma, her Emma, the love of her life, her soul-mate. But, it can't be.

"Wait. Can you see me?"

Regina averts her eyes.

"Why won't you look at me?

She has to keep moving. Stopping was a mistake. It had allowed her mind to play tricks on her.

"I know you saw me."

Regina busies herself by searching her chest of drawers for a clean set of pajamas.

"Why are you ignoring me?"

Regina holds her breath. She had to address the manifestation of her grief.

"You're not real," she mutters. "You're not really here."

"But, I am real. I'm really here."

She doesn't answer, she doesn't turn; she is just going to wait this out.

"Look at me, damn it!"

Regina's bedside lamp is sent flying across the room. It hits the wall with a crash smashing into a hundred pieces. Thankfully Regina had sound-proofed the room shortly after she and Emma started dating. Snow White's daughter proved to be an astonishingly enthusiastic lover. Regina faces the apparition.

"Shit. I'm sorry." Emma is displaying a characteristic stance, she is clearly embarrassed. "I didn't mean to do that."

"Emma," Regina breathes.

"I'm sorry about the lamp."

Regina had entirely dismissed the busted object.

"I can see you."

"Yeah?" Emma is noticeably relieved.

"You're actually here?"

"I think so." It came out as more of a question than a statement. "But now, I'm not exactly sure."

"Where have you been?"

"Uh," she stalls. "Here?"

"How long…?"

"I don't know." She pauses. "The last thing I remember is going to that party and then it's all kind of a blur." In the future, under no condition will she bring up that night. "Oh, shit. Regina, I'm sorry. Baby, don't cry. Please don't cry."

The queen struggles to recover.

"I'm sorry."

"Emma…"

"I died. Didn't I?"

Regina can barely vocalize the answer. "Yes."

Emma is unusually calm, taking the news in stride. "That makes sense. I just didn't want to admit it to myself."

"I thought I lost you." She is suddenly animated. "But, you're here. You're actually here."

"I guess I am. I think I am. I don't know how, but…" The longing in her wife's eyes tears her apart. "Regina, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you."

"You didn't," Regina reminds. "You're still here, Emma. But, how can I see you? Have you been here this whole time?"

"I think so. I mean I was in the hospital for a while and then I came here."

"You were with me. I knew it. I knew you were with me."

"You wouldn't stop crying and I didn't know what I had done wrong. And then when you went to the morgue"—she brings to mind that moment when it all became clear—"I panicked and came back here." She knows it was cowardice to abandon her wife when Regina needed her most. "I guess I wanted to be somewhere safe." Regina is speechless. "Are you mad?"

She tries to care, but nothing matters except the here and now. "I'm not mad," she answers honestly, "not at all."

"I hate being the reason for your tears."

Regina has to get through to her wife. Emma needs to recognize that she doesn't blame her for anything. She wasn't expecting her hand to pass through Emma's face. The shock is too much. She experiences the pain of her wife's traumatic death anew. She tries to scream, but there is no sound—at first.

Emma is frantic. She has to comfort Regina—somehow. "I'm sorry," she pleads. "Baby, please…"

"I can't touch you," Regina laments. She is inconsolable.

"Please forgive me."

Regina cannot believe her own eyes. Emma, though in spirit form, appears to be crying. The devastated woman recovers, though her eyes continue to water. "There is nothing to forgive. I have you back, Emma. I don't know how and I don't really care. I have you back."

Emma struggles to be rid of the tears, which appear to be causing her significant distress.

"Are you crying?"

"Maybe." Emma continues to fidget. "I'm not sure. You not being able to touch me made me feel things, which is weird because I don't have a body. And it feels like crying, but—I don't know how to explain it. It's not exactly pain, but…"

Regina's uneasiness grows.

"It's okay. I'm okay," she guarantees. "You didn't hurt me. Please don't cry."

Regina is beyond tired of crying. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." The guilt lingers. "I'm sorry Regina."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You're so good Emma. You made me a better person…a better mother to our children. I am who I am because of you. You changed my heart."

"You always make me feel so special."

"What does it feel like…?" The topic is inferred.

"Being dead? Um, I'm not exactly sure. I don't think I feel anything"—she wipes her eyes—"except whatever fresh hell this is."

Regina softens. "You're not cold?" Just the sight of Emma in her trademark tank makes Regina shiver.

"Nope," Emma answers confidently. "It's actually pretty awesome." She catches herself. "Oh, I didn't mean—"

"It's all right. I feel better now that I know you aren't experiencing pain or discomfort." She adds, "Except for the…"

Emma understands exactly. She pats her face. "It's better now."

Regina can't remember the last time she smiled this much. But she imagines that present company had everything to do with it.

"I'm sorry I can't touch you."

"You're here. I know you're here." Her sincerity is unmistakable. "This is all I need."

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Regina folds her arms to keep away the chill. "Have you seen her?"

Emma beams. "I still can't believe she's ours. We made her Regina."

"I know. I remember." She actually does remember that exact moment. In their entire time together, or her sexual history before Emma, Regina can't recall ever experiencing anything nearly as powerful as what she felt that night. If they had known it was possible for them to conceive they would have been trying. But, seeing as they weren't, not intentionally, something happened that led to the conception. Regina felt her wife, in a way she hadn't before. The connection was unlike anything. Their souls intertwined; their bodies shared. Nine weeks later, she discovered she was pregnant. "She has your nose and your chin."

"Yeah." Her dimples are prominent. "She's a lot cuter though."

Just as she had when Emma was alive, Regina falls more in love with her wife. "Thank you for my baby."

"Thank you for naming her after me."

"How could I not?"

Under Regina's adoring gaze, Emma shuffles nervously. "I guess it's a good thing we didn't come up with a name before…" She broke her. "Regina, stay with me. Baby, I'm here."

Regina manages to stop the cycle before spiraling out of control. "I know. I know." She might as well tell Emma the truth. "I'm so tired."

Emma glances at the digital alarm clock. "It's not even six. Why don't you lie down, get some sleep?"

"I haven't been able to sleep in our bed since…" She is suddenly quiet.

"I'm sorry." She should have realized.

"No, Emma, what happened isn't your fault." The love of her life remains silent. "Honey…?"

"I may not be able to lie down beside you, but I'll stay with you."

Regina voices her fear. "What happens when I wake up?"

"Regina, this is not a dream. I'm here. I will still be here when you wake up."

Regina rests on top of the down comforter and hugs the pillow, on the opposite side, close to her face. She is determined not to let Emma see her cry again.

Emma voices an observation. "Does it help…?"

Regina hugs the object closer to her body. "It still smells like you."

 _Don't cry_ , she repeats in her mind. _It hurts to cry_. Too late. "When you hold it, imagine my arms around you. Even though you can't feel me, I will be holding you."

"I missed you." She begins to drift.

"I love you, Regina."

"I love you, Emma Swan."

"That's Mills. Mrs. Mills." Regina appreciates the joke, but keeps her eyes closed. "I'm not leaving you," she whispers.

"Promise…"

"Rest now, my queen. I'm here."


	7. Chapter 7

**As a thank you to my faithful readers, here is a triple chapter update for you.**

 **WARNING: This chapter contains discussions about previous attempted suicide.  
** **Though I believe I have written this struggle with respect, please feel free to skip this chapter if the content is upsetting. I am confident that any important information will be touched on in the ones that follow.**

Regina concentrates on her restless hands, hoping that she can evade the inevitable question if only she manages to avoid eye-contact long enough for her therapist to forget. He remembered.

"Have you given any more thought to what we discussed last week?"

Understanding that an answer is required, the queen submits. "Yes." She clears her throat. "I'm willing to give it a try."

Archie's smile gives him away. "That's the first step. And, I would imagine hearing from others who have gone through something similar might help you far more than our sessions alone." He adds, "Though I believe it would be a good idea for us to continue checking-in once each week. But this might be a better balance for you; especially with your busy schedule."

"You're probably right."

Admittedly Regina feels some relief having finally achieved willingness to attend the highly recommended support group. At least this will get her mother-in-law off her back.

"Are you still seeing her?"

Relief is immediately replaced by the safest emotion for the grieving widow.

Archie is alerted when he recognizes the all too familiar darkening of his patient's eyes. As a therapist he understands that anger is a secondary emotion, usually masking something far more threatening to the person experiencing it. Remaining professional, he tries to ease his client's nerves. "I know it has been a while since the first incident, I just want to make sure that you are not worried about it happening again."

Before losing control entirely, Regina inhales a deep cleansing breath—a self-soothing practice Emma had taught her years ago. It always helped. She begins calmly, "I realize…that the visions were only a manifestation of my grief."

Because the response sounded a little too programmed for the experienced psychiatrist, he forgets his client's tendencies toward revenge seeking and pushes her boundaries. "Is this what you believe, or are you just telling me what I want to hear?"

Deep in the safety of her memory, Regina focuses on the voice of her beloved reminding her to focus on her breathing and not let herself be affected by others. For Emma, she tells herself. "Dr. Hopper, when you first started treating me I was not mentally stable. I couldn't accept the reality that my wife was gone. "I wanted—" she corrects, "I needed to believe she was still here,"—she braces herself—"so I imagined her." She knows she didn't and that's all that matters. Might as well tell the head-shrinker what he wants to hear. "I guess that's what I had to do to survive."

"Regina, you're not the first person to create an alternate reality for yourself in order to survive, nor will you be the last. Everyone copes in their own way. You might even hear some things at the meeting that are relatable. At the very least, I am confident that it will help you see that you are not alone."

As scripted, she agrees, "I know I'm not." For a moment her mind drifts and Regina is surprised to hear herself say, "It doesn't make it hurt any less." She hangs onto that comment. This whole time she had been so focused on presenting a tough exterior to the outside world that she hadn't been aware exactly how much she was hurting. As Regina's eyes begin to betray her, Archie switches subjects.

"How does it feel to be back at work?"

She quickly and casually wipes away the moisture accumulating in the corner of her eyes with the tip of her ring-finger. "Good actually," she sniffs. "It's the closest to normal I've felt in months."

"I've never cared for that word," Archie interjects. "What is normal?"

"You're right." She is grateful for the lighter topic. "Myself—I feel more myself. I think I'm rediscovering who I am."

"That's natural when a relationship ends, due to any kind of separation, break-up or death, to struggle with your identity apart from your significant other." He makes his analysis more specific, "Especially when you weren't expecting it."

The flood gates open.

Archie offers her a box of tissues, encouraging Regina to take as much time as she needs to recover, at the same time repeating words of support and understanding. Throughout his career, Dr. Hopper's goal has never been to break his patients. He simply recognizes the importance of providing a safe outlet for the individuals he treats. As much as she tried to lie to herself, Regina has been in dire need of this outlet.

After several minutes, once she is able to speak, Regina is ready to resume the conversation.

"I know I can do this." She adds, "I have to."

"As someone who has known you most of your life I can say with greatest confidence that you always have and you always will."

"Thank you." She goes against her upbringing and blows her nose. "I'm okay, really."

"Are you sure?"

She nods as she composes herself, appearing as though the breakdown never happened.

"One last thing before we end our session today…"

She looks up.

"I'd like to follow up on your recovery."

Regina prepares herself for the loathsome question that awaited her at the end of each session.

"Have you had any more suicidal thoughts?"

"No," she answers evenly. Each week the question loses some intensity. "I can't remember the last time it even crossed my mind." An odd serenity fills her spirit. "I want to live. I want to see my daughter grow up and to be there for whatever my children may need. I have to be both parents now." She adds, "And I'm okay with that."

"You don't have to be okay with your situation."

Her surprise is evident.

Archie elaborates, "Acceptance is key." He pauses, letting that sink in. "Acceptance," he repeats, "doesn't mean you're okay with,"—he searches for right words, ultimately deciding to use the most prominent example—, "your wife's passing, it simply means you accept it."

Her eyes are glassy. "I do like that." She is telling the truth.

"I thought you might."

Regina applies Archie's words to the anguish in her heart. "I'm not okay with it. I'm not okay with any of it." Full force, the tears return. "She's wasn't supposed go before me."

Having known Storybrooke's leading couple as long and as well as he had, Archie breaks a professional boundary. "Don't you think Emma would say the same if the roles were reversed?"

Too overcome to speak, the queen can only respond with a slight nod. She inhales a shuddered breath. "I can finally say…I accept that she died that night at the diner—and my job is to continue living for our children. They're her children. Maybe one day I'll be able to live for me." She winces. "Today is not that day."

"You've come a long way since we started working together and I couldn't be prouder of your progress. It may not feel this way now, but you're in a good place."

"Thank you, Dr. Hopper."

They both rise. Regina decides to take a few tissues with her in case her nose started running again. As Archie opens the office door to escort her out, he offers these parting words:

"Just remember to reach out. There are a lot of people in this town who care about you, they want to help you. All you have to do is…"

She finishes his advice. "Reach out."

* * *

Regina was used to having her baby with her all day, even after returning to work, but she would always drop Little Emma off with Mary Margaret before her sessions with Archie. Though Henry was old enough to baby-sit, Mary Margaret accepted responsibility two nights each week because she would already be at the mansion preparing dinner. She volunteered since Regina wouldn't be home until after six those evenings, too late in Mary Margaret's opinion to cook anything. The last thing she wanted was her family to depend on packaged meals for survival. Plus, this gave her an excuse to spend time with her grandchildren.

As much as Regina resisted the offer, she was grateful. It helped her to come home to a hot, satisfying meal after an emotionally taxing session. Most days were emotional draining, but Monday's and Friday's in particular. And nothing brought Regina's mother-in-law more joy than taking care of her loved ones.

Later that night, after the supper dishes were cleared and her in-laws returned home, Regina could finally relax. The therapy session had taken a lot out of her. For the moment, she is just happy to be home and to have her baby back in her arms.

"I'm going to take this one upstairs." She informs her son, "Your sister needs a bath."

"Okay. I'm gonna watch TV for a while."

As soon as Emma started dating Henry's mother, the transition to domestic lifestyle was easy. They would share family meals, engage in family game night and they typically watched the line-up of prime time shows together most evenings—the channel depended on the night. Henry had grown especially fond of their prime time routine and was determined to keep it going despite how much everything had changed in the last ten months.

"All right, honey," Regina concedes. "But I don't want you staying up past eleven. Last night I found you asleep in the recliner."

"Mom," Henry whines, "I'm almost eighteen."

"And you're a growing boy. You need your sleep." She steps closer. "Though, don't get too much taller."

Henry instinctively bows his head so his mother's lips can reach just above his eyes.

"I love you, Henry."

"I love you too."

Her focus returns to the fidgeting child in her arms. "Come on, my girl. Let's get you ready for bed."

The normalcy of the lighthearted interaction with her son left the queen on a natural high and she is determined to keep the good energy flowing. Upon reaching the master bathroom she begins filling the tub with water, just enough for her tiny princess.

Little Emma knows exactly what the running water means and reaches for her favorite toy situated on the edge of the tub.

"What is that?" Regina encourages. "Do you want your ducky?" Little Emma's feet express her excitement. "Is it bath-time?"

"Ba-ba," the child mimics.

The proud mother's heart is bursting with love for her angel. "Yes, bathy-bath," she echoes.

If anyone who knew her back in the enchanted forest could hear her now, talking baby talk, they wouldn't believe Regina was the same person. Her first child had softened her, taught her how to love; her wife taught her how to love herself, by accepting the love of others; and her daughter had returned her innocence. The new mother was so focused on introducing her squealing child to the warm water that she hadn't noticed her wife observing the scene.

"Hey."

Regina turns, smiles at her baby's mother. "Hey."

Emma moves closer, sits on the edge of the tub, so Regina doesn't have to strain. "How did it go this afternoon? Is he still buying it?"

Regina knows exactly to what her wife is referring. After all, they had both agreed that she would lie about being able to see Emma. As Regina gently washes their baby, taking extra care with delicate skin, she answers, "What can I say? I'm very convincing."

"That's why I married you."

"Darling, you married me because I said 'yes'," she corrects with a smirk.

"You got me there, Mills."

"Swan." She clarifies, "Mrs. Swan."

"You've got to admit, it has a nice ring to it."

"Okay, sweetheart, I need to tilt you back." The loving mother carefully pours a cup of water over her precious baby's head, remaining mindful of her child's eyes. "That's my girl." She returns to their conversation about her therapy session. "To keep up appearances, I agreed to go to the grief support group that Archie recommended."

"I think that's a wise decision."

The baby begins to whimper. Because Regina's attention was divided, she kept a protective hand around her gem. Though, it didn't do much to save Emma's beloved friend from floating away.

"Oh, honey, did you lose your ducky?" The doting mother rescues the desired object. "He's right here." She places the rubber duck in her baby's hand, which baby Emma promptly introduced to her mouth, and kisses the top of her happy girl's head.

The child continues to babble, expressing her gratitude in her own way.

"I don't even know why I agreed," Regina continues. "I'm just going to sit there like a fool and not say anything until it's over."

Emma cautiously suggests, "You could talk about your experience."

"What experience?" She absentmindedly rubs her baby's back. "They've lost their loved ones, but you're still here. It's hard enough to sound convincing in therapy." She shuts her eyes tightly, clearly struggling to keep her emotions in check. "I'm so tired of hiding."

Emma knows she probably shouldn't revisit the past, but her fear of history repeating itself overrules the fear of sounding insensitive.

"You remember what happened when you told my parents that you could see and hear me."

Growing solemn, Regina turns away from her spouse. "Why did you have to bring that up?"

"I know how damaging that was when they rejected what you told them and tried to convince you it was all in your mind." She tries to sound reassuring. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

"I got over it." The tears in Regina's eyes would indicate otherwise.

The tiny child demands attention.

Regina imagines she is the worst mother alive when she registers her baby's frown. Though she had been facing the bathtub, her mind was miles away. The poor baby is probably freezing, she worries. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." Regina grabs the closest towel and wraps her treasure in warmth and comfort.

"Is she okay?"

"She's okay." Regina kisses her crying baby's cheek. "I shouldn't have left her in the water that long." As she prepares a fresh diaper, she resumes their conversation. "Your parents wanted to have me committed."

"After your suicide attempt," Emma respectfully explains, "They were scared. You scared us all." She knows Regina has a tendency to beat herself up over mistakes she has made and that's the last thing Emma wants to achieve with this conversation. "Regina, I know how much you were hurting."

"It was a long time ago."

"Three months is not that long," she regretfully informs.

Regina pretends to not have heard and instead focuses on the task at hand. Onesies are not the easiest things to get on and the tears clouding her vision are only exacerbating the situation. As the desperate mother struggles to get little arms into seemingly littler sleeves, the baby announces her growing frustration.

"I know honey. I know you're cold," she soothes.

When Emma recognizes her wife's fragile state, she feels terrible for pushing the issue. "Regina, you're okay." She is not okay. "Baby, please don't cry because of some idiotic thing that I said."

Regina wipes away the tears with the back of her hand.

"You weren't locked away," Emma reminds. "You're home, with your family. Our kids are here." Her voice grows softer. "And I'm here." Never had Emma Swan felt so helpless. "You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened. You were in unimaginable pain."

Still unable to speak, Regina nods.

"You're still in pain." As if reading her wife's mind, Emma adds, "There is nothing wrong with you, Regina."

Of course Regina would never let herself believe that, but the words mean so much more coming from the one person who knows her better than anyone. She sniffs. "I need to get her bottle."

A few minutes later, Henry is troubled by the sound of his sister's crying, originating from the kitchen. Though a crying baby is something he has grown accustomed to, he doesn't wait until the commercial break to evaluate the situation.

Entering the kitchen, Henry spots his mother leaning against the island for support. Is she crying? He cannot tell. He deduces that something must be very wrong because the baby in his mother's arms is growing more upset by the second, though Emma's distress would be easily remedied if only she could mix her own formula. Regina was unable to breast-feed when she was in the hospital and she wasn't allowed to resume because of the medication she was prescribed.

"Do you need me to take her, Mom?" He didn't mean to startle her; he only wanted to get her attention.

"No," Regina sniffs. "No. You go watch your shows."

"I can help."

"I know you can. But, I'm okay. I promise." She is obviously not okay.

Henry decides not to wait for his mother's cooperation. "Do you want to come to me, Emma?"

Little Emma was so beyond tired at this point, exhausted by her excessive crying, she reaches for her brother.

Regina glances up when her child is removed from her grasp, her face streaked with tears. With anyone else, such a bold gesture would have frightened and outraged the vengeful queen. However, with Henry such boundaries did not exist between them and Regina's expression reflects her gratitude.

After liberating his sister, Henry expertly begins prepping the bottle for Emma's nightly feeding. "Hey, Emma, it's okay." He bounces the child in his arms. Experience had show that often helped calm her. "I'm getting your bottle. It's okay," he repeats. Circumstances being what they were, Henry learned how to care for his sister shortly after Little Emma was born.

Her tears drying, Regina offers, "Do you want me to do it?"

Avoiding eye contact, he answers, "I've got her." Henry cradles his baby sister as he helps the little one guide the bottle to her mouth. As soon as the synthetic nipple is in place, delivering required nourishment, the baby quiets. The warm liquid pacifies her immediately. "There you go," Henry soothes. "All better." He doesn't dare meet his mother's gaze. To an observer his attitude might be mistaken for resentment, but, in truth, he is apprehensive. What is his mother going to do when he leaves for college? He wants to cry, he wants to get angry; instead, he focuses on his very grateful and helpless baby sister. "I'm not going to call Grandma," he assures, adding, "unless you need me to."

It hasn't been that long since Regina wasn't allowed to be left alone with her children, particularly her baby, who was in the care of Mary Margaret. Regina had just regained her in-law's trust and earned the right to full custody of her children, the last thing she wants is to lose either. But, tonight, she agonized, threatened to undo all the progress she had made. "No." She notes the desperation in her plea and inhales a shuddered breath before speaking again. Attempting to remove the fear from her voice, she explains, "No, I don't need you to call your grandmother. I'm just having a bad night." Sensing Henry's uneasiness, she expresses her shame. "I know you didn't ask for any of this."

He responds, though there is an obvious internal struggle. "I'm supposed to take care of you. Mom would want me to take care of you."

"He's right."

Regina had been so distraught she hadn't noticed her wife leaning against the sink. How long had she been there?

"But I'm the mother," Regina calmly begins. "You're not supposed to worry about me."

Henry considers his mother's words before speaking, careful to avoid eye-contact. "I think I'm going to take a year off before starting school."

"No." She didn't even have to consider the prospect.

Though his mother's voice is firm, carrying the authority of a queen, Henry is not discouraged. "I know you don't like it, but I've given this a lot of thought—and Grandma agrees." As soon as he says that last part he recognizes his error.

Regina's eyes widen. "I won't let you put your life on hold!"

"It's my life," he argues.

Sensing the growing agitation, the littlest member of the family begins to cry.

"Regina, you're scaring her."

Overcome with emotion, Regina ignores her concerned wife. "You're _my_ son! That hasn't changed. That will never change!"

The entire family is rendered speechless, none of them prepared for Regina's outburst. Filled with regret at touching on a subject that is still very sore, Henry tries to comfort his confused sister.

"It's okay, Emma. It's okay."

Regina fears that she has done irreversible damage this evening. She was never supposed to yell at Henry. She is the reason he feels obligated to stay with her. It's her fault. Tonight is all her fault. Slowly and steadily she approaches her children. Henry's head is bowed, he is obviously very upset. When he doesn't retreat, Regina reaches out a trembling hand and lightly grasps her son's bicep. The other hand gently pets her daughter's head. Understanding that she can't take back her hurtful words, Regina hopes to communicate her desire to repent through this gesture. Calming, mother and son watch as the baby's eyes begin to close. Regina's voice is soft, almost a whisper.

"I am always going to worry about you…and fight for you and…" She can't even get the words out.

"Mom."

Careful not to disturb the tiny child, they hug. Safe in each other's protection, mother and son are free to be vulnerable with each other.

"Henry, please forgive me."

"It's okay, Mom."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. We're okay."

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

Henry pulls back. "You're tired."

Exhausted, Regina covers her face with her hands. "I didn't realize how tired."

"I know you miss her."

"You miss her too. She was your mother."

Henry's chin begins to quiver. Apparently, he is as good at masking his true emotions as his mother.

"I'm sorry I haven't been there for you, honey." She hugs him again. "She would be so proud of you. She is proud of you." She cradles his face in her hands. "And so am I." Recovering slightly, she voices her concern. "Please don't put your life on hold."

"But I don't want to leave you."

She gently wipes his tears with the pads of her thumbs. "I'll be fine. And your sister will be more than fine; I will always take care of her first. If it makes you feel better, you can have your grandmother keep tabs on me."

They both laugh. It helped to make light of a very dark time in their lives.

Henry offers her a weak smile. "Okay."

"I'm just having a bad night." She is saying it more for her own benefit. "It will pass."

"I know."

"Do you want me to take her?"

Henry is actually grateful for the offer, his arms were getting tired.

Regina gazes adoringly upon her baby girl. The child's eyes flutter open as she resumes her nighttime meal. "I've got you, little one." Little Emma's smile allows a trickle of formula to leak out of the corner of her mouth. Thankfully, her mother is prepared and wipes away the dribble.

As soon as he is relieved, Henry casually wipes away the rest of his tears. "I guess she was pretty hungry."

"Yes." Regina is in her element now. "I think I need this support group. Maybe they can help me." "I want to be better for you,"—she regards the baby nestled in her arms—"for both of you." She shuts her eyes, willing herself to recover. "I know I can be better."

"You will." He references his baby sister. "We believe in you."

Later that night, Henry volunteered to carry his sister back upstairs since she fell asleep while their mother was rocking her. Regina had opted to stay downstairs for the remainder of the programming. It actually helped both mother and son escape. Henry imagines that his mother must have been so relaxed that she had also fallen asleep as a result.

After Henry had situated the baby in her crib, Regina held her son tightly before letting him go, acknowledging she would be completely lost without him.

Henry's other mother had been observing the scene from the shadows, as she often did. She imagines that she is the biggest asshole in the world for being the cause of her vulnerable wife's breakdown.

After her son had retired to his room, Regina was left alone, standing over the crib in quiet reflection.

Not wanting to disrupt Regina's serenity, Emma whispers, "I'm sorry."

Without turning, Regina replies, "I meant what I said Emma."

Even though Emma is no longer in human form, Regina still has the power to strike fear in her soul. She prepares herself for the worst, but her wife surprises her.

"I would rather exist with you, even if it's only in my mind, than live a single day without you."

Relieved, Emma offers an explanation. "You know I worry about you."

"Your son worries too. I hate that he feels he has to take care of me."

"You're his mom and the kid is crazy about you. You're his favorite person."

Regina turns to face her beloved. "You were his favorite person."

"Henry and I were buddies, you know that. But, you are everything to him."

"I want to be better for my son, for my family."

"You're doing the best that anybody could do in your situation. You can't expect so much of yourself."

She regards her sleeping baby. "I'm their mother."

"You're also human. And you are a wonderful mother. That's why I chose to raise children with you."

Regina giggles. "Oh, is that why?"

"Well, that and I loved having sex with you."

"I'm listening."

They share much needed laughter, but are careful not to disturb their peaceful child.

"I love watching her sleep." Emma would often spend countless hours each night watching her daughter and imagining what it would be like to hold her, just once.

"The bath usually relaxes her. Unfortunately, I only succeeded in agitating her."

"Is Archie still giving progress reports to my parents?"

"Yes." Regina is mildly annoyed. "I wish they'd stop treating me like a child."

"You know they worry about you too."

"Well, I'm fine. Maybe now your parents will think twice before messing with my delusions." Realizing how insensitive that sounded, Regina tries to amend her comment. "I know you're not."

"I still can't touch you."

"You know I don't care about that."

"Regina, I'm haunting this house. I can hear you crying, even with the shower running." She quickly recognizes that her comment requires elaboration. "I'm a ghost; I'm not exactly limited by earthly senses." She watches Regina hang her head in embarrassment. "I know you're lonely."

Meeting Emma's gaze, with fresh tears stinging her eyes, Regina avows, "Emma, I love you."

"I love you too."

"I don't care if our situation kills me, just please don't go away."

"I'm not going anywhere." After a few moments Emma breaks the comfortable silence. "When is the meeting?"

"Monday night."

"Maybe you should share." She jokes, "Though, it might be a good idea to omit the part about your dead wife haunting you."

Regina giggles. "I'm not going to make that mistake again."

"I am sorry."

"Honey, I'm fine." Her voice is confident. "Maybe I will share."


	8. Chapter 8

**My familiarity with support groups is limited to only one type, so I wrote this based on much of my own experience, including a particularly embarrassing part ;)  
** **The majority of this chapter is written in a lighter tone. However, there is brief mention of a previous suicide attempt.**

 **WARNING: Brief mention of previous suicide attempt.**

As much as she may have complained about riding in the yellow bug when her wife was alive, being behind the wheel relaxed her. Henry was expecting his mother to give him Emma's car after he got his license, but Regina decided to buy Henry a new car instead, arguing that it was far safer than what she referred to as the "metal coffin on wheels." Truth is she would be devastated if anything happened to the beloved bug. It had become as much a part of her identity as it had for Emma. Henry wasn't complaining. He loved his new car with all of its added features.

After leaving work that evening, Regina had plenty of time to run home, drop off her daughter, feed her, eat a modest dinner and change before the seven o'clock meeting. Belle generously allowed the support group to use the library, rent free, provided they keep the space clean and return it to its original condition at the end of each meeting. Since this would be Regina's first time attending, she planned to arrive at the start, no earlier; no later. That way she could avoid small talk.

Despite her best efforts to dawdle, she left the house with plenty of minutes to spare. Her reason for leaving when she did was she understood that if she waited any longer, she would never leave her house. It didn't help that the last thing she wanted was to spend an hour with what she imagined would be a bunch of sad sacks.

Her anxiety mounting, she passes the meeting space, then a second time. She checks the clock—6:52. Still too early. She drives a bit further out of the way, with the mindset that she would just have to back track. She would be cutting it close, but, as much as she doesn't want to be late, she doesn't want to arrive early. Actually, the last thing she wants is to be there. She considers driving to her vault instead, imaging that she could just hide out for an hour and tell her family and Archie that she went. But Archie would probably check with someone from the meeting about whether or not she made an appearance. Crap! 7:02—now she is late.

Being the newcomer at such an intimate gathering, all eyes instinctively gravitate toward her. And, it may also have something to do with her wardrobe choice, which is casual compared to her usual polished mayoral attire. She knew there was no avoiding being recognized no matter what she wore. And there was positively no way to sneak into to space undetected since there was only one entrance. It also didn't help that the door slammed behind her, at which point all heads turned. She hated being late. Thankfully, the introductions were just getting started.

She doesn't have to search long for an empty chair. Granny waved her over immediately, indicating the unoccupied seat next to her.

"Your Majesty," Marco greets. Since he had volunteered to chair this week, he was responsible for setting the format of the meeting.

"Please," she humbly corrects as she takes her seat, "call me Regina. I'm just Regina here."

His smile is warm. "Welcome, Regina."

"Thank you."

As soon as she is settled, her remaining senses are alerted. Apparently Granny had donated a coffee urn and what appear to be an assortment of muffins, cookies, brownies and scones. The arrangement of fresh pastries looks like a banquet compared to what she ingested for dinner that evening. Regina's stomach growls in anticipation and she mentally scolds herself for not arriving earlier. She really wanted a cup of coffee, and the pastries…very tempting.

"Don't worry. There will be plenty left," Granny whispers, as if reading Regina's mind. "You should take some home with you."

She smiles. "Henry would appreciate that."

Turning back around, Regina spots the one person she hoped to evade. She understood her chances of running into her ex-boyfriend, in theory. However, this did not help her prepare for her reaction. Now is a time when she wishes she still had her magic. She would be able to poof home without anyone knowing, after erasing everyone's memories, of course. That seemed fair. Under the circumstances, she decides to suffer through what she projected would be an uncomfortable hour.

After the introductions, Marco asked if anyone would like to start off. This was Regina's chance. She had planned to share, rehearsed all day what she would say; most recently in her in car on the drive over and during her little detour of avoidance. She raises her hand.

"Regina," Marco recognizes, with characteristic warmth.

All eyes are on her.

The attention is nothing new. After all, Regina had grown accustomed to captivating crowds over the years, both as the reigning queen and the town's mayor. This is different. Despite continuous preparation, she is suddenly speechless. Perhaps her nervousness has to do with the fact that she wasn't planning on being the first to speak that evening. Why then did she raise her hand? Stupid. There's no going back now.

She begins timidly, "I'm afraid I'm not very good at this."

Collectively, the group reacts to her relatable statement. Their kind faces radiate support and understanding.

"Most of you know I lost my wife, Emma Swan." Regina gulps. She didn't expect to get emotional so soon. "It's been almost a year, but it feels as if it was only yesterday." She distracts herself by attempting to still her trembling hands. That didn't work as well as she'd hoped. "I'm no stranger to pain." Ready to dive into her story with both feet, she inhales deeply. "All of you here tonight know me. You know who I was. I turned to the darkness when I was broken." She is on a roll now. "Back then, I had nothing to lose. I inflicted pain and suffering on others in hopes that it would someday make me whole. It never did." The chorus of nods encourages her. "For countless years I stayed angry and bitter, still searching for my elusive happy ending. I don't know why, but twenty-eight years later she came to me." Regina feels herself smile. That usually happened whenever she spoke about her life with the Emma. "Before Emma and I even met, she gave me a son. Ten years later, Henry brought us together and we became a family. My family healed me." She nods at her own realization. "And because I loved and was loved by Emma Swan, there is no room for darkness in my heart." She feels the all too familiar warmth of fresh tears. "When Emma died, I was pregnant with our daughter." The pain in her chest returns. "I had just reached the end of my second trimester." She closes her eyes, letting a few tears escape.

Thankfully, Marco was prepared with a box of tissues, which he quickly passed down the line.

"Thank you." Regina helps herself to more than one tissue. "I just want to be prepared," she comments, earning an eruption of laughter from the group. Recovering, she resumes her story. "Emma couldn't wait to be a mother again. She would finally have a chance to watch her child grow and teach her how to walk, how to talk, all the things she missed doing with Henry. But, she was robbed of that chance. I thought those last few months before my little girl was born would be the worst pain I would ever experience. I was wrong." She goes off script. "About three months ago, I drove my car into a brick wall. The paper called it an accident—but it wasn't." With the tip of her tongue she moistens her lips, which have suddenly gone dry. "I wanted my life to be over. I needed it to be over. Instead, I woke up in the ICU. I was in some of the worst physical pain I'd ever felt—and angry. I was not supposed to survive." She looks around the room. Her audience appears to be in a state of shock. Apparently, those close to the situation did a good job keeping the truth of her suicide attempt a secret. "My in-laws were beside themselves. I wasn't allowed to see my daughter." Her chin begins to quiver. "She was only four months old." If she hadn't been so distraught she would have noticed that there was not a dry eye in the room. "And after I was able to leave the hospital," she is almost at the breaking point, "I was only allowed supervised visits with my children." Her words are hardly distinguishable. "I'll never forgive myself for what I put them through."

Granny catches her. "All right, honey. It's all right."

Regina is shaking so hard, she has to brace herself against the elderly woman.

Another member of the group springs to action. "I'll get her some water."

For situations such as these, there is a pitcher of ice-water situated next to the coffee additives on the collapsible table.

Regina struggles to compose herself. "I'm okay."

"Honey, are you sure?"

"Yes, really, I'm okay." She takes a sip from the offered cup.

"You're in the right place," Marco comforts.

"Thank you." She wipes away her tears. "I promise my story does get better."

The group laughs, even louder than before. And, not for the first time, but perhaps the most important time, Regina recognizes the healing power of humor.

Granny keeps one arm around her old friend for added support as the younger woman continues her story.

"I've been working with Dr. Hopper ever since…, I meet with him twice a week—well, it's changed to once a week now, since I'll be coming here."

Granny hugs her closer in confirmation.

Regina relaxes. She is loved. "I'm on medication for depression; I have my children back." The group claps, clearly they were all rooting for her. Her smile reflects her gratitude. "I finally proved that I was a competent parent. And I recently returned to work." That one was anti-climactic, but she doesn't care. "I keep waiting for the day that I'll wake up from this nightmare. I realize now that I avoided coming here, because then that would make it real." The group nods in agreement. "The worst part is that for what I did in my life, the horrible, unspeakable things I did, I deserve to die. Why Emma? She was good. It should have been me. I wish it had been me. Thank you for letting me share."

She is given a round of applause.

"Thank you, Regina. Would someone else like to share?" A hand goes up. "Robin."

"I can relate to almost everything you said. I still ask myself why Marian and not me. In my life I've done countless things that I'm not proud of. What did my wife do to deserve to have hers cut short? Nothing. That's just it. Life isn't fair and it often doesn't make sense. It took a long time for me to reach that realization. It's been years since her death and I still think about her at least once every day. She may be gone, but she is still very much alive in my heart. That I will never lose. I think about my son, he was only four when his mother died. I want him to remember her, but I don't even have a picture I can show him. It's hard, and sometimes I think that the loneliness will last forever. But, I was lucky enough to meet someone"—Regina knows that she is that someone—"who helped me see that I could live again, that I could love again." He meets Regina's eyes. "It wasn't meant to be,"—he smiles weakly—but I'll never regret loving her." His eyes take on a tell-tale sparkle. "She showed me that it was possible." He looks away. "No one could ever take my wife's place in my heart. I understand that now. Loving again could never take away any of my love for Marian. She is forever a part of me. And I realized the way that I could honor her was to live my life, not only for me, but for our son. She would want us to live, to love, to thrive. I'll never forget how she inspired me to be the best me, the kind of person I want to be. And I will continue to honor her by living my life fully, being the best father, the best friend, the best me possible. I am forever changed because of my wife and for that I am grateful. Thank you."

* * *

After the meeting's conclusion, and for the second time that evening, Regina prepares herself for the inevitable. But first, she is going to distract herself with a cup of coffee and a caramel apple scone.

As Regina proceeds to stuff her face, Granny entices, "Please, take some home with you."

"Yes, I should." She swallows the first bite. "I know my son would be upset if I didn't."

Happily, Granny packs up the remaining goodies, consolidating them into one box instead of the original three. The cookies she had packed into a plastic bag.

"Granny, this is too much," Regina objects.

"Honey, you look like you could use the extra calories," the warm woman points out in that motherly tone.

Regina has yet to regain a healthy weight. She imagines that her body had temporarily forgotten food. Lucky for her, it's starting to remember. She consents. "At least let me pay you."

"Nonsense." Granny places the box on the seat, next to Regina's purse. "It's my gift to you and Henry."

Regina nods. "I'll be sure to tell him they're from you."

"You just enjoy them." She pats the grateful woman's arm before retreating.

When Regina turns, she notices Robin striding toward her. Why did Granny have to walk away?

"I'm glad you came tonight."

At the moment, she is too hungry to formulate a response. Fortunately, the thief wasn't done.

"I think you helped everyone here just by sharing."

Regina observably gained much needed relief less than an hour earlier. And the scone definitely helped. She appears lighter, as she laughs at herself, "I'm such a mess." She discretely wipes her now empty scone hand on her jeans. That was unintentional.

"You'll discover most of us are."

It's still awkward. "Thank you for what you said tonight." When she notices Robin shuffle bashfully, Regina feels the need to add, "I'm sorry about—"

He stops her. "Please. You don't need to apologize for finding your soul-mate." Regina's features soften. "I used to envy Emma. I thought she was the luckiest woman in Storybrooke." He amends, "She was the luckiest woman in Storybrooke. And you made her very happy."

Her eyes glisten. "That's all I ever wanted."

"She was an honorable woman, your Emma. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't given me my job. She helped me get established in this town. And I respected her immensely."

Regina understands the sincerity behind these words, but she isn't sure how to respond. Thankfully, Marco interrupts the uncomfortable silence.

"Regina, I am so glad you decided to come tonight."

"Marco." She embraces him. "Thank you for welcoming me. I'm sorry I fell apart."

"Believe me, we all understand," he encourages, lightly patting her back.

"We do," Robin agrees.

After getting the coffee urn loaded into her car, Granny is about to make her exit when she stops to bid goodbye to Regina. "I'm so proud of you." She doesn't even wait for the younger woman to initiate the hug.

"Thank you, Granny."

She holds Regina at arm's length in order to meet her eyes. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call me." Regina is obviously moved. "I mean it. I'll baby-sit…whatever you need."

"I do appreciate it." She smiles. "But right now, I practically have a waiting-list of baby-sitters. My little Emma is in high demand."

"I bet she is." Granny hugs her again. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too."

Before this evening, Granny worried that Regina blamed her for what happened in her establishment almost a year ago, since Regina hadn't set foot in the restaurant since that night. Though she knew that Emma's death was unrelated to her cooking, she still blamed herself. Tonight helped her see that she had been harboring unnecessary guilt, which threatened a very important relationship.

Energized by the outpouring of love, Regina volunteers her services when she notices the remaining individuals tidying the space. "I can help." She discards her empty coffee cup in the out-going trash, removes her late wife's trademark red leather jacket, lovingly places it on the windowsill along with her purse and the box of pastries, since the table had vanished, and begins stacking chairs.

Robin decides to follow suit in the hopes of continuing their conversation. "I would have thought this would be beneath you."

Regina is oddly happy performing such a trivial task. "I've changed. Emma helped me realize that at my best, I'm still human; no better than anyone else."

"How very wise."

"How is Roland?"

"He's growing up fast. He just turned nine."

"That doesn't seem possible. I can't even remember the last time that I saw him."

"He was just a little guy then. How is your daughter?"

"She's perfect, just the best baby." She is absolutely glowing. "She's almost eight months old now." Abandoning her task, she turns to retrieve her purse from the window-sill. "I'll show you a picture. I know I have one in my phone."

"I'm sure you do." He strolls over to the petite woman. Though he couldn't place it, Regina seems to posses a quality he hadn't seen before. The only thing he knew for sure, he had never been so attracted to her.

Fortunately for Regina, she hadn't noticed this ogling. She is too preoccupied searching for one of her favorite pictures of her precious girl.

"Actually, I believe any and all storage space I had on this device is being taken up with pictures of my angel," she comments.

"But I'm sure you wouldn't have it any other way."

"Not at all." She hands him the device.

"Beautiful princess,"—he beams—"she looks just like her."

"Yes," Regina agrees. "I'm so happy she takes after her mother. I would love her just the same if she didn't, but I got lucky; in more ways than one." She lingers on the photo. "I am so in love with her." Returning the phone to her purse, she realizes what just happened. "Now you got me talking about my baby and I've completely neglected chair stacking."

Thankfully, another member of the group completed the task.

"You're a proud mother. There's nothing wrong with wanting to share your joy."

Not since her wife was alive had anyone looked at her in such a manner. She isn't sure how to feel about it. "She is my joy. Just like her mother, she saved me."

"Is she with Mary Margaret?"

"Henry volunteered to watch her tonight." Family is a safe topic. "I gave him money to order pizza."

"That sounds like a fair trade."

"Mary Margaret and David decided to go into the city. I can't remember the last time they went on a date."

"Is Henry still in school?"

She nods. "He's going to be a senior this year."

"Does that mean that college is next?"

"He got accepted to Boston University." Since she had already revealed very intimate details about her life that evening, she might as well admit the truth. "It's terrifying. I don't know what I'll do when he moves out. He wants to take a year off to stay home with me, but I convinced him to apply. Unfortunately, I failed to include higher-education when I created Storybrooke."

Robin laughs. "Well, Boston is not too far away."

"I still hate it."

"You're his mother; you're supposed to hate it."

"But, I couldn't be prouder of him." The conversation had taken an unexpected and comfortable turn. Her children will always be her source of comfort. "At least I have the peanut." She realizes the nick-name requires an explanation. "That's what Emma called our daughter. I made her promise me to stay my little baby forever."

He imagines that he could not find Regina more irresistible. "Did she agree?"

Regina sighs. "Sadly, I think she's determined to grow up too."

"She's named after her mother, right?"

"Yes,"—her voice is filled with pride—"Emma Swan."

The lights flicker.

"I think they're trying to close up."

"I should get home, relieve Henry."

As Regina slides her arms into what had become her favorite jacket, Robin inquires, "Will you be back next week?"

The question catches her off guard. Fortunately, she had already contemplated the answer before the meeting's end. "You know,"—she smiles—"I think I will."

"You helped more people than you know just by being here."

"Well, you helped me tonight." She means that. "I feel much better than when I walked in."

He walks her out. "Have a good night, Regina."

"Goodnight," she calls over her shoulder, on the way to her favorite yellow bug. She passes Marco, who is also parked on that side of the street. He must have known he would be one of the last to leave after the meeting.

"Goodnight, Regina."

She waves. "Goodnight."

Before starting the engine, she centers herself. Her heart filled with gratitude, she cannot wait to get home and be with the source of her strength, her family.


	9. Chapter 9

**This is a triple-chapter update. Please read the previous chapter before proceeding. Swan-Mills family adorableness ahead! Enjoy.**

On the drive home, all of the positive energy she absorbed during the meeting is soon replaced by guilt. Before leaving work that evening, she knew that she would have to see Robin, speak to him. She wasn't supposed to feel good about it. But it felt okay. It felt easy. It felt natural? If she is being honest with herself, the conversation was unremarkable. Her thoughts return to the only person who makes her excited, happy, complete and frustrated, while keeping her safe, all at the same time. No one could ever compare to her greatest love. As she pulls into the driveway, her nervousness grows. She can't lie to her wife about seeing Robin. Maybe Emma won't ask.

Upon entering her home, all of Regina's fears dissolve when she catches sight of the picture perfect image of her family, all three of them, seated around the big screen TV, which Emma insisted they buy. At least the purchase turned out to be a wise investment. Regina smiles when she spies the open pizza box on the coffee table in front of Henry. She planned to help herself to one of the remaining slices before retreating upstairs. The measly salad she had earlier was not a sufficient dinner. She had already forgotten about the scone.

Henry turns in his seat on the couch. "Hey, Mom."

"Hey, Mom," Emma calls from her recliner, another necessary purchase.

"Hi, my loves." Regina uses the fact that the littlest member of the family hadn't noticed her come in to her advantage and leans over the back of the couch to place a single kiss on the top of her unsuspecting baby's head. Instantly, the child looks up from her seat to discover her favorite person, her mother. "Hi," Regina playfully greets. Even behind her binky, baby Emma's smile matches her loving mother's. "There's my girl," Regina cheers as she effortlessly lifts the reaching child into her arms. She kisses baby Emma again before holding the child's face against her cheek. "Did she give you any trouble tonight?"

"Nope," Henry answers. He presses the pause button on the remote in order to give his mother his full and undivided attention; also he didn't want to miss any of the action. He would simply rewind a little bit before resuming.

"Granny wanted me to give you this." Regina hands the box of sweet treats to her son.

"Granny was there?"

She nods. "We sat next to each other."

Emma leans over the armrest of her chair to sneak a peek into the unmarked, white box. "What did you get, kid?"

He opens the box. "There's a bit of everything in here!"

Regina agrees. "I'm just glad there was enough left over."

"Were there a lot of people there?" Henry takes an enormous bite out of a gooey brownie. The sweetness complimented the savory taste left by the pizza.

"Surprisingly, there were more than I thought there would be—maybe fifteen."

"That's cool." Henry is clearly preoccupied with the decadent chocolate.

The baby is currently playing with her mother's necklace. She often tried to put the swan pendant in her mouth, but the chain was not long enough to accommodate. Also, the binky deterred her. She would have to introduce the object to her mother's mouth instead. Regina didn't mind, she adores her baby girl.

"So, what have you two been doing?"

Grown-up Emma notices Regina's failure to include her, but decides not to take offense at the error. She knows it's not personal.

"We've just been sitting here, watching the Game," Henry answers. Even though his sister couldn't speak, he appreciated her company. Shows are a lot more enjoyable when you have someone to share them with. And baby Emma never minded her brother's commentary. If she did, she never gave any indication.

Regina reproves her son. "Henry, that's too scary for her."

"The kid seems to like it," Emma comments.

As if understanding and wanting to be included in the conversation, the child points to the screen.

"What is that?" Regina encourages. "Do you see a dragon?"

"Yeah," Emma draws out. "I think our daughter's got a thing for dragons."

Regina raises an eyebrow.

"She gets it from you, ya know."

Henry reaches up to tickle the distracted child. "I think my sister's got a dark side." His voice is filled with pride.

"No," Regina whines. "She's my sweet baby." She kisses Emma's little face. "I missed you," she whispers against a tiny ear. Apparently, the feeling is mutual. "Come on sweet girl,"—she kisses her again—"you and I are going to watch something nice."

Before making her exit, Regina snags one of the remaining slices, completely overlooking the fact that the toppings failed to include a single vegetable. At the first delicious bite, the baby in her arms tries to use the proximity to her advantage.

"No pizza for you, little one," Regina chides. Normally she wouldn't talk with her mouth full, but in present company she is not self-conscious. "It's almost time for you to go to bed."

"I gotta bail, kid." Emma rises from her chair. "All those idiots are gonna die anyway."

* * *

"Regina, don't be mad. You know Henry loves Pizza Thrones."

When Emma was still alive and acting Sheriff she normally worked late on Sunday nights, so she wasn't able to watch Game of Thrones with Henry when it originally aired. As a solution, on Monday nights, Emma and Henry would watch the most recent episode together on HBO GO and either order pizza or bake one at home. They fondly referred to the event as Pizza Thrones. It was Henry's favorite part of each week during the summer. He was determined to carry on the tradition once the new season started. Though Regina did not share her wife and son's enthusiasm for the show, or junk food, she did appreciate not having to cook.

"Emma shouldn't be watching that. She's too impressionable."

"The kid's seven months old; she's not going to remember."

"I'm not taking any chances." She looks wounded. "I don't want her to be like me."

The child is currently crawling around her mother's bed, futilely searching for anything she can get her hands on.

"Regina, there is nothing wrong with you." Emma adds, in hopes of breaking the tension, "Well—not anymore."

Regina sends her wife a stern look.

"I'm kidding. Baby, it's not your fault you turned out the way you did." Now Regina looks genuinely offended. "I get the distinct feeling I'm making things worse, so I'm just going to shut up now."

Regina inhales deeply before speaking. "I just want her to be better." She begins rubbing her baby's back.

"She's going to be fine," Emma soothes. She adds, "More than fine. She has you to look out for her." Regina's worried expression is reason for concern. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I don't want to be like my mother."

"Regina, you are nothing like her. Believe me, I know." Over the last couple of years Emma learned the reality of what Regina endured when she lived with Cora.

Though marring Emma's grandfather was less than ideal, at least Regina was able to escape her harsh existence living under her mother's rule. As much as she didn't want to be like the woman, magic was a way for Regina to protect herself. She vowed that she would never let anyone destroy her spirit again. Her mother had turned to magic for similar reasons, which is why Regina often had difficulty separating her identity from that of the abusive woman.

Emma's voice softens, seeming to wrap Regina in a hug of understanding. "Honey, listen to me. You are not Cora."

Regina lifts her baby when Little Emma wanders too close to the bed's edge and sets the child in her lap. Little Emma didn't appear to mind, she loved being close to her mother. And Mommy was wearing a particularly fun bangle—if only she could get it to her mouth.

Regina kisses the back of her baby's head. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears that tell the story of unspeakable heartache. She sniffs. "What sorts of things did you watch when you were little?"

"Um,"—Emma thinks, she is eager to change the subject—"Duck Tales?"

"Is that a cartoon?"

"Well," she hesitates, "yeah." Her inflection suggests that she is about to say something that would be unpleasing to Regina.

"Please don't say it."

"Look, I know how you feel about—"

"Don't say it."

"Babe, trust me on this. If you want her to be like me you're going to need to embrace—"

"Nope."

"Disney."

Regina winces at the dreaded word.

"I know, I said the D-word. But, there are so many classics I think Emma would really enjoy."

"I'm not buying that garbage that isn't even an accurate portrayal of me." She stands and begins creating a corral with pillows for her baby girl.

"Not you of today," Emma continues, "but was it really that off base? Now my mother, I agree, that was tragic."

"I don't know. I think the only thing Walt got right was the portrayal of your simpleton mother."

"Okay, what did she do now?"

"Nothing."

Regina spots an opportunity to play her daughter's favorite game. Already on her hands and knees she ducks behind a pillow wall. Without missing a beat the baby searches for her mother. As soon as Little Emma spots the top of Regina's forehead she squeals in anticipation. Regina's eyes are next to be revealed. She is smiling. After popping over the side of the pillow fortress Regina peppers her very happy baby with a multitude of kisses, eliciting the most adorable laughter.

"It's a good thing I'm already dead, because I probably would have had an aneurism from the overload of cuteness," Emma observes.

The proximity helped Regina share a secret with her child. "Your mother thinks she's a comedian."

Emma is on a roll now. "Maybe in my next life…" When she spots Regina's un-amused expression, she dwindles. "I'm done."

Satisfied, Regina switches tasks. "Maybe I'll give it a try if it will make your daughter happy." She retrieves the remote from the nightstand. Before Emma lived there it didn't occur to Regina to have a television in her bedroom. So much had changed.

"You might want to wait until morning," Emma advises. "The only cartoons on at this time of night are on the Cartoon Network or Comedy Central. And I doubt you'd find either of those appropriate."

"Let's just see." Regina determinedly flips through until she lands on a promising channel. "What is this?"

"It's Duck Tales." She is genuinely surprised. Satisfied, she informs, "I believe you found the Disney Channel."

Regina's confusion is evident. "I wasn't aware we even had this."

Emma seizes the opportunity. "If you had known, you probably would have made our TV explode."

"Not necessarily."

Emma clearly disagrees.

"Maybe," Regina admits. "Here you go, baby. Watch some nice"—she gestures toward the screen—"whatever this is." She introduces one of Emma's favorite stuffed animals to the corral before kissing her again. "Will you watch her while I finish getting ready for bed?"

"I got it."

Striding toward the chest of drawers, Regina begins undressing, starting with her t-shirt which she removes in one fluid motion before fishing her favorite sleep shirt that once belonged to her wife out of the second drawer from the top.

When she had a body, the sight of her wife's nudity would fill Emma with overwhelming desire. Now it only adds to the ever pervasive loneliness, serving as a reminder that she will never again feel the woman she loves. She doesn't even remember how it felt to touch Regina. Though she still has her memories, can remember what being with her wife meant to her, she can't associate any sensations. It's torture missing something that you know you had. And, at one time, Emma had everything. One thing's for certain: she can never forget love, how it felt to love this woman and to be loved by her. She struggles for words, not wanting to indicate that anything is amiss. Damn you fire tears!

"Pretty soon you're going to have holes in that thing."

Regina pulls the buttery soft garment over her head. "I like this shirt."

"I know you do." Her smile is warm.

"It," she hesitates, "makes me feel better."

All Emma wants to do in this moment is hold her wife—just hold her. She understands that Regina wears clothes that once belonged to her in order to feel connected. It must be so much harder for Regina, Emma imagines; her body can still remember sensations, which probably makes their absence even more unbearable. She only hopes that the t-shirt provides some comfort.

"So, what happened?" During the meeting is implied.

"I shared."

As soon as Regina's back is turned when she walks toward the sink in the adjoining bathroom, the baby looks up in the exact direction of her blonde mother. Emma takes notice.

"Oh, good." Her response is automatic. "How did it feel?"

Emma studies her daughter's quizzical expression. If she didn't know better, she would think that Little Emma could see her. Just then, she notices her baby girl knit her brows.

"Shit."

"Did you say something?" Regina calls over the rushing water.

Emma tries to sound convincing. "Nope. Not me." She needs to pull herself together or Regina is going to suspect something. "I think it was the TV."

"Oh." Regina accepts that as a satisfactory explanation and resumes the nightly task of washing her face.

The baby appears to appraise her blonde mother as she sucks on her binky, simultaneously kneading her favorite stuffed animal, relishing the softness of the faux fur between her fingers. She reminded Emma of Regina when they first met, who always seemed to be sizing her up. Now she is just as uncomfortable. She wouldn't know what to do if her baby could see her. And it would definitely worry her always practical wife. On the other hand, if her baby could see her, then she would know her; she would know without a doubt that she had two mothers who love her unconditionally and would do anything for her. But that would be selfish, Emma tells herself. It would only cause the child heartache once Little Emma realized her mother couldn't hug her. Fortunately, Regina is too distracted rehashing the events of that evening to notice her wife's internal struggle.

"It was horrible," Regina groans for dramatic effect. "My feelings just came gushing out. I couldn't stop them. But everyone there made me feel welcomed. They were supportive and encouraging. I've never experienced anything like that before." "Outside of my family," she adds.

Regina wrings out the washcloth before exchanging it for her toothbrush, to which she promptly applies a one inch strip of paste.

"You know we love you." Emma keeps her focus on her daughter who is carrying on her evaluation.

"I do."

Emma tries to bring her daughter's attention back to the TV without alerting her unsuspecting wife. She would be finished with her nightly regimen soon.

"You're a lovable person."

Regina looks into the mirror to catch her wife's eyes. Thankfully, Emma's ghost sense told her to look up at that moment.

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

"I like making you smile," is Emma's sheepish response. She notices her baby sigh in frustration and resume television watching. Satisfied, adult Emma argues with herself about whether or not she should ask the burning question. Fuck it. "Was he there?"

It wasn't a spit-take. According to Regina, the timing was coincidental. She inadvertently chose that exact moment to rinse her mouth.

"You mean, Robin?"

"Yeah," she confirms.

Regina methodically draws out a long strand of dental floss before replying. "Yes."

"Was it weird?"

"Surprisingly, no."

"That's good." That's not good.

"I suppose."

"Well, how did it feel when you saw him?"

"Fine—it was just fine." She repositions the floss. "To tell you the truth I didn't feel anything."

"Oh."

After completing her ritual, Regina flips the switch in the en-suite bathroom, turning off the light. "We talked for a little bit after the meeting, while we were cleaning up." Apparently Emma finds this scenario hilarious. "What?"

"You cleaned?"

"Emma Swan-Mills." Her cadence conveys her disapproval.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," Emma laughs. The hysterics probably have something to do with the stress brought on by narrowly escaping her daughter's silent interrogation.

Regina sits on the bed's edge. Her mood is somber. "You are the only one who gets my heart racing."

Emma is clearly moved by her wife's devotion and even more aggravated that she can't hold the amazing woman. She redirects her longing to their daughter. "Look at her."

The baby is cuddling with her bunny friend, completely hypnotized by the animated characters on the screen.

"Well, it seems you were right," Regina comments.

"I told you it was a good idea."


End file.
